


in which the man of gavin’s dreams walks into his life and just ruins everything for him, just everything

by MissDinahDarling



Series: hashtag squad goals [4]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Deviancy (Detroit: Become Human), Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed are Cousins, Emotional Constipation, Enemies to Friends, Epic Bromance, Epic Friendship, Fluff, Gavin Reed Being an Idiot, Gavin Reed Redemption, Gavin Reed is a Mess, Gavin Reed-centric, Gay Disaster Gavin Reed, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Jealous Upgraded Connor | RK900, M/M, Machine Upgraded Connor | RK900, Mutual Pining, Oblivious, Partnership, Possessive Behavior, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Pre-Relationship, Protective Gavin Reed, Protectiveness, Soft Gavin Reed, Squad Dad Chris Miller, Undercover Missions, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Is Bad at Feelings, Upgraded Connor | RK900 is In Denial About Deviancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-15 00:31:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18063149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDinahDarling/pseuds/MissDinahDarling
Summary: RK900 is Cyberlife’s most advanced android – a machine through and through, and completely immune to deviancy. Then he meets Gavin Reed and realises that, despite being restrained by a red wall of programming, there’s nothing that can stop him from wanting to pick the detective up and fuck him against said red wall.tldr: this is not the slow burn read you are looking for





	1. gavin reed totally likes nines

**THE DETROIT POLICE DEPARTMENT**  
**PRESENT DAY**

“Connor.”

The android in question bit back a smirk.

“Connor.”

He must admit, the whining tone was rather cute, really; though the detective must be pretty serious, as there was a severe lack of nicknames being utilised.

“Co-onnor!”

He was also surprised, and slightly impressed, by the clear demonstration of patience and persistence.

“Fucking _Connor_!”

Ah.

Never mind.

“Bambi, will you please answer him before I shove my fucking gun down his throat,” Tina snapped, slamming her hands down on her desk in fit of frustration. She had been working overtime on a case where four houses had been broken into. No evidence had been left behind and the only things the thieves seemed to be interested in stealing were the victim’s sex toys.

She had also been given a trainee as a partner, who proceeded to throw up before they even entered the house.

It was, all in all, a very challenging case to be tackling, especially when this was the sixth day in a row in which Tina had been working on it.

As such, Connor decided to be merciful – he span in his chair to face Gavin properly.

“If you had _listened_ during the meeting the other day, you would already have all the information you need. As it is, I will endeavour to remind you of the basics: his name is RK900; yes, he is the android who would have replaced me; no, I do not know him that well as I only saw him the one time everyone else at this precinct did; I am not sure I would like to get to know him better, however I _am_ curious about him; no, he still isn’t a deviant, so no, unfortunately I don’t think you are his type as he doesn’t actually have a type – romantic and sexual relationships were not programmes that Cyberlife built into him; that being said, I am optimistic that you could still get to know him and I am pretty sure you will get that chance soon. Simon believes that RK900 is quite partial to the colour white and,” Connor paused, enjoying Gavin’s increasingly flushed face too much, “yes, there is a 73% chance that he is a cat person.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Oh my _god_ , his favourite colour is white,” Gavin lamented, throwing himself back into his chair, head flung back, “what the fuck is wrong with androids? You get to be your own people and you _willingly_ choose white as a favourite colour – what the fuck is up with that?”

Tina threw a paper ball at his head. “Shut the fuck up,” she hissed waspishly, “I have no time for your theatrics today!”

“Tina, if you go through the evidence found in the second house again, you may find what you’re looking for, particularly the evidence recovered from the kitchen,” Connor interjected, trying to smile encouragingly at her as she blinked at him blearily. She then peered down and flipped through her files, before cursing loudly.

“How the fuck did I miss this shit?” she moaned, head falling to the table with a dull thud, “who puts a _used_ condom in the dishwasher, so fucking gross.”

Gavin chortled. “Yeah, how did you miss that shit?” he asked, tilting back on his chair to peer over at her. Tina hissed at him and flipped him off.

“I didn’t go into the kitchen, one of the newbies did,” she growled, “it looked like piece of fucking cellophane in the photo, I thought the newbie made a mistake logging it in, so I never really thought to check it out in the evidence locker. Fuck, now I have to go and get a _used_ condom examined? Fuck this!”

Gavin shrugged, “get the newbie to do it,” he said, “if they didn’t check it into forensics, then it’s their mistake to fix.”

Tina cursed. “I can’t,” she muttered, “the guy up and quit the day after we checked out the house. Apparently, he didn’t ‘sign up for this shit’ so he fucked off.”

“Good riddance,” Chris chipped in, buried amongst his own casefiles, “we don’t need that kind of negativity dragging us down around here.”

“Yeah, we generate enough of our own,” Gavin yawned, stretching out as he perused his computer screen. He had five tabs open and seven files scattered around his desk. His case had originally looked like a series of kidnappings, but after connecting the dots, Gavin was sure he was onto a trafficking scandal. The sick bastards were stealing children from parks, schools, arcades… the only thing the victims had in common was the fact that they were all androids.

He had a feeling that Marco Arnette had something to do with this, but Fowler wouldn’t let him proceed without cold, hard evidence. The bastard had started as a small-town drug dealer, before building himself up to be a drug-lord. Then Red Ice lost its appeal, so he moved onto weapons. When weapons lost their novelty, Marco moved onto the next big thing – cars, yachts, private jets… but it was all easy pickings for him.

Marco chased danger. He enjoyed the thrill of bigger and more challenging cargo – it was all a game, a demonstration of just how _bad_ and _powerful_ he was.

Android children seemed a logical next step for a sick prick like him.

Gavin just needed to prove it first, but with no DNA, no footage and no witnesses, he was up shit creek without a paddle. Or even a boat.

What made his case even more complicated? The fucking _FBI_ were sniffing around the precinct, swinging their dicks around and edging their way into everyone’s fucking investigations ’cause they were feeling left out. So, not only did Gavin have to worry about fucking Marco being the perpetrator, but now he was getting antsy about the goddamn FBI trying to take over his case. He didn’t need one of their agents finding out about Gavin’s fucking theory and then getting all over his dick, trying to get a look-in.

Marco Arnette was a big fucking name - the FBI would be stupid to _not_ want a piece of that action.

What made his case even _more_ complicated than that? One of the agents snooping around was a fucking _android_ and not just any old android too. He was the same android that was supposed to, what, replace Connor? RK900, or whatever? Which was fine – send over Cyberlife’s fucking pinnacle of technological success, what the fuck did Gavin care, he passed his sensitivity training, it wasn’t a problem.

Except, it was.

A _massive_ problem.

RK900 was quite honestly the hottest guy Gavin has ever seen and he wasn’t even a guy. Which, really, made more sense – Gavin’s dream guy was someone that biology couldn’t possibly produce, so obviously science had to genetically engineer him instead.

Now he knew why Connor had acted sly, the little _shit_.

He looked at the android askance, rolling his chair back and forth as irritation began to prick up in his stomach. Connor was sitting innocently at his desk, his LED rolling around in bright yellow cycles – it had been yellow for a while, a testament to how stressed out their resident robo-cop really was. Still, sympathy was in short supply and Gavin never really had much to begin with.

“You’re a piece of work, you know that?” he called out, drumming his fingers along his thighs.

Connor didn’t deign to even glance up at him; Gavin spied the small smile that grew on the android’s lips though.

“What, pray tell, could you possibly be speaking of?” he asked, squinting at his computer screen as his LED flickered red momentarily.

“Don’t you play fucking coy with me, you bad fucking squad member – you should’ve warned me that he was fucking hot,” Gavin scoffed, snatching a scrap piece of paper up and crushing it into a ball. Connor tensed up, as if he knew what was about to happen – not that it did anything to deter Gavin.

Nothing could really deter Gavin.

“Gavin, I know what you’re about to do; please remember that you are a grown man and above such immature—”

 _Bap_!

Gavin threw his head back and laughed, the sound cascading throughout the bullpen, catching the ire of their surrounding colleagues. The ball had neatly smacked against Connor’s LED, the light burning red as the android reared up, an offended expression lining his face.

“I stand corrected: you are not above such childish proclivities,” Connor observed, his doe-eyed expression growing hard. Gavin merely threw his hands up and shrugged.

“You have such high standards for me,” Gavin remarked airily, “you need to lower them a little – maybe you won’t get disappointed so often.”

Connor scowled at him – the expression purely Hank in nature – before an indulgent smirk curled up on his lips. “In that case, I hope for your sake that RK900’s standards are six feet under,” he stated, his LED spinning blue when Tina cackled out with delight.

“I’m a goddamn catch! Your fucking clone—”

“—he’s _not_ my clone—”

“—should consider it a fucking honour that I want a piece of his plastic ass!”

“Do you hear yourself speak sometimes?” Tina called out, slamming her phone down onto the receiver with a snarl – she didn’t seem to be having much luck with contacting forensics.

“The fuck are you yelling at me for? Connor was the one being a bitch,” Gavin bit back.

“As you so often like to state, _you_ started it,” Connor retorted, shooting the detective an impish smile.

“I hate literally everyone around me right now,” Tina declared vehemently, “apart from you Chris, you’re still an angel and I am blessed to have you in my life.”

Chris acknowledged her with a weary wave.

“Goddamn, I love you Chris,” Tina sighed, waving back at the exhausted officer.

“Where the fuck is _my_ love?” Gavin demanded, an underlining thread of outrage colouring his words.

 “I don’t know, why don’t you ask your new boyfriend?” she asked sardonically, her fingers sharply stabbing at her keyboard as her frown deepened.

“Fuck you, he isn’t my boyfriend!” Gavin spat, all the lessons taught to him by his anger management therapist fading away as his irritation grew stronger.

“But you wish he was?” Connor threw out the question quickly.

“Jesus Christ, _Connor_! What the _hell_ did I just sa—"

“Nice to see we’re all working hard,” Hank interrupted sharply as he walked through the bullpen, several folders wedged under an arm, “nothing says ‘professional’ quite like grown-ass adults screaming at each other.”

“Apologies Hank,” Connor said, ducking his head with sheepish expression.

“Probably not your fault,” Hank replied, his icy gaze landing on Gavin, “you’re surrounded by bad influences.” Gavin responded to his snide comment with a middle-finger. “So, what’s gotten all the children excited?” he asked Connor, settling into his chair with a deep sigh. He threw his files onto his table and leaned back, regarding Connor curiously.

The android shifted slightly under his attention, his LED flickering yellow as he shot Gavin a glance from the corner of his eye. “We were… discussing the recent development with the FBI,” he explained shortly.

Hank’s brows rose to his hairline as he considered this. “Really?” he questioned, “anything in particular?”

They could hear Gavin grinding his teeth from across the bullpen.

Connor shook his head slowly. “Nothing notable,” he said, wincing when his LED span yellow again. He tried to hack into it to force it back to blue, but the programming rejected his attempts. “Just a general conversation on how, ah, irritating the agents can be.”

Hank nodded, a slow smile growing on his lips as a smug gleam shone in his eyes.

“Really?” he repeated, his shit-eating grin widening. He leaned across his desk towards Connor, his blue eyes piercing, “and here I thought you were talking about Gavin’s little crush on your shiny, new clone.”

“Fuck off, you fossilised piece of _shit_ —”

“—technically, he _isn’t_ my clone—”

“—you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about! Hey Connor, did you know that Anderson hides a fifth of vodka in the archives room?” Gavin spat out heatedly, desperately trying to shift the attention away from him and his apparent ‘crush’ on the FBI’s new toy. Predictably, Hank didn’t give a shit.

“You talk to your therapist about your daddy issues yet?” the lieutenant retorted, nonplussed as he held up a hand to Connor when the android’s LED sparked red. “Or are you still hoping that projecting your shit onto me will make things better?”

“Don’t fuckin’ flatter yourself,” Gavin said snidely, “I’d rather project my shit onto Fowler’s left fucking nut.”

“Ding, ding, ding,” Tina cried out, her voice shrill and strained, “Gavin has officially used up two of his shitty comments of the day so far! Now, shut the fuck up about male genitalia!”

Connor frowned at her worriedly. Gavin had actually made seven shitty comments throughout the day – for Tina to lose count was a clear indication of how stressed she truly was. He hummed contemplatively as he leaned down and opened his bottom drawer, pulling out a bottle of Fruit Punch flavoured Gatorade. He quietly made his way over to Tina’s desk and placed it by her side, sending her a small smile when she cooed at him happily.

“My fa-avourite,” she sang, batting her lashes at him – Connor wasn’t sure whether she was referring to the drink or to himself, but he felt flattered nonetheless.

“Shannon told me to stock up, just in case,” Connor said, shrugging as he returned to his desk, “you’re welcome.”

Hank grinned at him, nodding with approval.

“What else do you have in that goddamn drawer?” Gavin asked, peering across the bullpen curiously.

Connor cocked his head, as he began listing off items: “besides the Gatorade for Tina, I have granola bars for Chris, painkillers for Hank, iron tablets for Officer Collins, dog treats for Officer Brown’s guide dog, several stress balls for Captain Fowler, a nail file for—”

Gavin cleared his throat pointedly.

Connor glanced up at him impishly.

“Oh, sorry Gavin,” he said, simpering slightly as he pretended to search through his drawer, “I don’t seem to have anything that will fix your heartache.”

Tina cackled, the sound borderline hysterical and strained.

Chris merely gave Connor a tired thumbs-up.

“You must be mistaken – Reed doesn’t have a damn heart,” Hank remarked lazily, flipping through his files with increased frustration.

“Behave Hank,” Connor chided, “of course Gavin has a heart – how else would he have feelings for Nines?”

“Oh,” Hank said, looking up with sudden interest gleaming in his eyes, “so he’s _Nines_ now? Thought you didn’t like him.”

“I never said I didn’t like him!” Connor snapped back hurriedly, his shoulders hunching up defensively.

“No? You just don’t like being around him, or talking to him, or acknowledging the fact that he—”

“ _Hank_!”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Gavin interjected sharply, holding his hands up, “who the fuck said anything about _feelings_?”

There was a heavy silence, filled with implication and pointed stares.

“All you’ve done is talk about how much you desire him,” Connor replied, his tone bordering on frustration, “what other logical conclusion are we to arrive at?”

“Literally any other conclusion barring one that involves fucking feelings?” Gavin retorted hotly, “I haven’t even _met_ the guy, I just think he’s hot, that’s it! I don’t _do_ feelings – Tina, back me up here!”

“Gavin doesn’t do feelings,” Tina obliged absently, flipping her computer screen off with heated sigh.

“Exactly,” Gavin said smugly, “so fuck you.”

Connor peered over at him with piercing eyes. “You keep saying that to me,” he noted, a wicked smile playing on his lips, “is there something you’re trying to imply?”

Hank wrinkled his nose. “He better not be implying fucking shit,” he grumbled, his icy gaze shifting from his screen to Gavin, his lips turned down with disgust.

“I’m just saying, RK900 _was_ based off my physical appearance,” Connor said, grin widening when Gavin’s face flushed red, “and I understand that blue eyes appear to be very important to you, but besides that small physical attribute, we are near identical. If you _like_ me, you should feel confident in coming out and telling me.”

“I thought his eyes were grey,” Chris piped up, his voice muffled due to his face being buried in his hands.

“They are,” Connor agreed, “but apparently we’re ‘damn wrong’, as they are, and I am quoting Gavin naturally, ‘ice blue with flecks of silver, I can see why you'd think they were grey, but they're actually blue, so fuck you’, but that’s beside the point.” Connor’s imitation of Gavin’s voice garnered the unnerved reactions he thought it would and he smiled, somewhat vindicated. “The point I am trying to make is that whilst I like you Gavin, it really is as a friend. I’m sorry, I just don’t see you that way.”

Gavin gaped at him wordlessly, a plethora of emotions – mostly rage and embarrassment – flickering across his face.

Tina cackled, applauding Connor for his sass. Hank appeared to be thanking the ceiling that Connor was just joking and from the sounds of it, Chris had all but given up and had allowed his head to fall dully against his desk. The rest of the precinct’s reactions ranged from resigned acceptance and stifled frustration.

“ _Can we just get back to fucking work, please_?” Gavin demanded, his tone bordering on the hysteric.

He settled back into his chair with a growl – Tina’s soft giggles petered out into dark curses, Chris was softly thudding his head against his desk, Hank was clicking his pen irritably and Connor’s heavy knowing gaze could be felt from across the bullpen.

There was a beat of silence.

“And I _don’t_ have fucking feelings for him!” Gavin barked out.

* * *

**THE DETROIT POLICE DEPARTMENT**  
**TWO DAYS AGO**

It had started like this – Hank and Connor, the dynamic duo, had just closed another case that rocked the city of Detroit.

The case had centred on a serial killer who enjoyed kidnapping androids and turning them into works of art – he had been nicknamed The Puppeteer by the clearly inventive media. It had taken Hank and Connor five weeks, but they managed to hound him down and arrest him – though, the case had only really been brought to the public’s attention when the culprit turned his attentions to humans, a fact which made Connor’s LED blaze a sickening red for two days straight.

It had freaked the fuck out of Hank and had the rest of the precinct on edge.

Not even Gavin dared to provoke him during that time.

It only settled back to blue once they successfully hunted the sick bastard down, tossed him in chains and read him his rights. Unfortunately, it was whilst they were shoving him into the back of Hank’s car that the FBI rocked up, demanding that the killer be handed over to them.

The whole debacle had ended with members of the DPD and the FBI spitting curses at each other in the Fowler’s office: Hank was loudly demanding where the FBI had been, whilst he and his partner had been running themselves ragged trying to solve the damn case, and Perkins wanted to know why Hank still had a job. Although they were behind a thick wall of glass, the bullpen could still hear the muffled and aggressive diatribe being spouted by both sides. Gavin’s attention was completely focused on the argument, his gaze flicking from each person in the office. The altercation almost came to blows, with Hank barrelling towards Perkins with his fists clenched, only for Connor to practically tackle him back to their side of the room. The whole ordeal seemingly ended with Fowler charging in between the two groups, hands up and stance strong, fully intending on taking no shit from either side.

Perkins continued to spit venom at Hank over Fowler’s shoulder, gesturing a hand at him with a sneer. It seemed as if the shitshow was going to escalate again and Gavin was tempted to call out bets, but then —

Oh _shit_.

— _he_ stepped up.

Gavin’s wet dream, all wrapped up in plastic and stiff polyester.

He had almost dropped his coffee when the android walked into the bullpen, hot on the heels of his irate partner, and Gavin had found it impossible to tear his eyes away from the guy ever since.

The RK900 model had been stood silently behind Perkins in Fowler’s office, allowing his partner to take the lead with the negotiations; when it seemed as if the agent was seconds away from initiating a fight, the android neatly stepped between his partner and Fowler, eyeing the man with a stern expression.

Amazingly, despite his hackles clearly being raised, Perkins backed down.

Gavin blinked – he had never seen Perkins submit to anyone before, let alone an android. The detective craned around his desk to get a better view of the RK900 model. He looked like a fucking work of art – a sculpture with flinty blue eyes. His LED was a constant stream of blue, never flicking yellow or red, barely even swirling around as he negotiated with the captain.

The argument seemingly fizzled out the second RK900 began to speak – Fowler appeared suitably impressed by whatever the android was saying, with Perkins clenching his fists, his jaw twitching periodically. Hank was rolling his eyes and throwing his hands up and Connor appeared to be subtly inching behind the lieutenant, avoiding looking at his successor.

Gavin wondered whether Connor had been officially introduced to his replacement – from what he heard, Connor hadn’t been there when RK900 had been turned on, but judging from his body language, it didn’t look as if the android was inclined towards an introduction at all.

In fact, Connor had never looked so awkward – his LED a spinning blur of red-yellow-red as he hid slightly behind Hank. Gavin made a mental note to give the android an update on Coffee Bean; that should chill robo-boy’s nerves out a little.

Either way, the conversation taking place seemed to be calming down, with both sides doing a lot of nodding and holding up their hands and all that fake-ass bullshit that came with workplace politics. Gavin never had the patience for playing nice with authoritative assholes – probably explained why Fowler was such a giant fucking hurdle in the way of him becoming a sergeant.

Speaking of which – the man in question suddenly came striding out of his office. He rested against the bars that lined the stairs to his office, a stern expression on his face.

“Everyone,” Fowler announced, his deep voice cutting across every conversation like a knife, “to the briefing room, you have three minutes.”

There was a beat of silence.

“You have _one_ minute,” Fowler growled.

With a rounding chorus of groans and softly mumbled curses, the day shift slowly moved towards the briefing room. Gavin snatched up his coffee and languidly swaggered over, rubbing tiredly at his eyes as he entered the room. He spied Chris sitting at the front desk with Collins; the desk behind was still spare, so Gavin sat behind him, swinging his legs up onto the chair next to him, saving the spot for Tina.

He bared his teeth at Officer Person who muttered darkly at him as she walked past before sipping at his mug of coffee. He could feel Connor’s disapproving glare from across the room, but he simply responded to the android’s judgement with a shit-eating grin. Gavin turned to face the front of the room and promptly choked on his drink when the most beautiful, goddamn man in the world walked into the room behind Perkins.

The android’s movements were effortlessly graceful as he glided to the front of the briefing room, his distant cool eyes giving the room a brief scan. Gavin’s heart skipped a beat when their eyes met, and he cursed himself when he felt his cheeks heat up.

The android, however, simply moved on without indicating that he noticed the change in the detective. Gavin swallowed – he must have noticed his reaction. Connor could always tell when Gavin’s pulse rate changed, or when his mood altered.

Perhaps this RK900 model could turn his scanners off… or maybe Connor was just more invasive than he let on. The android liked to think he was being protective and caring, but Gavin could really do without the daily healthcare reports on his body.

Still, it boded well that the android hadn’t noticed his reaction – or maybe he had and just didn’t give a shit. Gavin didn’t know which answer he preferred, but he would do everything in his power to prevent such an embarrassing thing from happening again. If he was going to introduce himself to RK900, it needed to be the best damn introduction ever.

He needed to be smooth and suave; he had to show the android his best fucking version of himself – full of fucking grace, with a touch of sass and—

Jesus. 

He _really_ needed to stop watching Queer Eye reruns.

“Is that Connor’s clone?” Tina asked, arching a brow as she batted Gavin’s legs off the chair beside him, settling into the seat with a soft sigh.

“Yep,” Gavin replied, his eyes scanning the android from top to bottom. He stood perfectly still, hands clasped behind his back and head held high. He wore a Cyberlife uniform, with a starch-white jacket and black shirt with an unusually high neckline. His designation number, RK900, glowed softly against the fabric, and Gavin wondered if he had chosen a new name yet.

RK900 would be quite a mouthful to moan, after all.

“Well,” Tina breathed, a small smirk playing on his lips, “he certainly looks… intriguing.”

“That’s a goddamn understatement,” Gavin commented hotly, “he looks like—”

“A walking wet dream?” Tina teased knowingly, arching a brow.

“A walking wet dream,” Gavin confirmed reluctantly.

Fowler strode into the room, the tension in the room thickening. Perkins’ body grew stiffer, his face tight with irritation, as he peered down his nose at the captain. The silence extended until Fowler stood behind the podium, his eyes glinting with frustration.

He pointedly did not glance in Perkins direction – he did send Hank one last warning glare, however.

Clearing his throat, Fowler gave the room a cursory scan before he began the meeting.

“I’ve gathered you all because the higher ups believe we need to foster more _positive_ and _productive_ relationships with other law enforcement units – in particular, the FBI, due to the fact that they feel somewhat _overlooked_ and _undermined_ ,” Fowler started, tension and sarcasm threading through his words, “that’s why, from now on, we will be working together as a united force, more stable and stronger than before. We will be… _willing_ to share our cases and our workloads – we all have the same endgame, we want to see the streets of Detroit secure and free from crime. By working together, we can ensure that this city is safer for every… _person_ ,” Fowler’s eyes flickered to Connor uncomfortably; the android merely nodded encouragingly, “who lives here. Now, Agent Perkins and his partner, Agent Nines, will inform you all as to how this partnership will affect us from here on out.”

Fowler stepped back, folding his arms across his chest as Perkins stepped up.

The underlining tension in the room grew tighter – Gavin could hear his colleagues shifting from discomfort, muttering darkly under their breaths. Hank loudly scoffed, sneering when Connor hushed him hurriedly. Next to him, Tina had a slight crease between her brows and though he was tempted to nudge her and distract her, he knew that she wouldn’t appreciate it. Instead, he allowed his attention to drift back to more important matters at hand.

RK900.

No.  _Nines_  – fuck, that was a weird name, but it was better than a model number.

Nines hadn’t so much as twitched during Fowler’s speech, nor had he made an attempt to intercept Perkins from taking the podium. Instead, he appeared to be silently analysing the situation – his blue eyes hard and focused on his partner, his stance strong and firm.

Gavin shivered at the thought of being pinned by those eyes.

“Thank you, Captain Fowler,” Perkins stated dismissively, “to build upon what he was saying, I think that we should—”

“So, what do you think my odds are?” Gavin asked Tina quietly, zoning out of the meeting the second Perkins opened his mouth, “‘cause I’m not gonna lie, he looks exactly like the type to fuck me against a wall and still respect me in the morning.”

Tina snorted under her breath, flushing when Fowler threw her a stony look.

“Behave,” she mumbled, “before Fowler kills us.”

“I’m serious T,” he insisted, shifting in his seat as he dragged his eyes across the android’s broad shoulders, “look at him – bet he could hold my wrists down with one hand. Shit, do you think if I ask nicely, he’d let me sit on his face?”

“If Fowler shoots us or fires us, I’m going to kill you – be quiet,” Tina scolded quietly, crossing her legs under the table with a stern expression on her face.

Gavin, naturally, ignored her completely.

“He could snap my neck and I’d probably thank him for it,” Gavin sighed, biting his lip as he drank in the android’s cheekbones. He frowned slightly as he watched the android’s lips twitch, as if Nines was biting back a smile – he wondered what was so funny, ‘cause he highly doubted Perkins knew what a sense of humour was, and Fowler pretty much had a backlog of dad-jokes that he heavily relied on. None of them were funny; all of them were recycled.

“Pay attention, this meeting is important,” Chris softly hissed to him over his shoulder.

“Nah, what’s important is that fucker’s jawline,” Gavin muttered back, “I want to bite it.”

The android’s cheek twitched again; it was almost as if he was trying hard to not smile. Or maybe he was scowling – Gavin honestly couldn’t tell.

“Gavin,” Tina whispered warningly, “put your dick away for one second.”

“Much rather he did it for me,” he retorted without a second thought.

The android’s body jerked for a second, LED spinning yellow before returning to blue before anyone could notice. This time, Gavin definitely saw his lips twitch; it was as if the android wanted to smile but wasn’t sure how. The detective blinked and scanned the FBI agent again; Nines, if it was even possible, looked even stonier than before.

Shit.

“Oh. Oh, fuck me,” Gavin gasped hoarsely, freezing when the android tilted his head slightly. “Fuck me, Tina, I think he can hear me.”

Nines’ head turned minutely towards Gavin. He arched a brow, expression unchanged, before turning his attention back to Perkins.

“Oh shit,” Tina gasped, choking back hysterical laughter as Fowler frowned at her once more. “You’re so fucked!”

“I’d be so lucky,” Gavin replied, biting his lip as he slowly scanned the android’s body. “Crap, crap, I need to stop talking, shit!”

His phone buzzed in his jacket.

_bambi’s sadder twin: Yes, you do need to stop talking; you are being highly inappropriate and distracting. Behave._

“Woops,” Gavin muttered, sending Connor back a row of three devil-emojis, “pissed Connor off.”

“I’m not surprised,” Chris sighed as Tina giggled quietly, “now shut up, they’re talking about your case.”

* * *

**THE DETROIT POLICE DEPARTMENT**  
**PRESENT DAY**

Gavin spent the rest of the meeting zoned out. Despite them talking about his case, his mind couldn’t help but drift away to fantasies of androids and their stunning blue eyes. It wasn’t until Chris flicked him in forehead with a pen that he realised the meeting had ended and everyone had left.

Including Nines.

Since then, the FBI hadn’t graced the precinct with their presence, but from the looks of it, they were still hovering around.

Fowler had holed himself up in his office and if he wasn’t ranting on the phone, he was gesturing wildly at his oversized wall screen to his unamused secretary, a human named Nora Kennedy. It was the woman’s first day, and Gavin could already envision her stabbing Fowler to death. He’d offer himself up as an alibi, but Gavin was pretty sure he’d be next in Nora's rampage of death and slaughter.

After the week he’s had, Gavin had half a mind to just lay back and accept death’s warm embrace.

Picking up a pen, he flipped open a casefile and began underlining the dates and times of Marco’s movements – since the meeting with the FBI, he hadn’t had the chance to approach Fowler again with his suggestion of opening an investigation against the man. No one else seemed to have the time to entertain him and his theories either; they were too absorbed in their own cases and for once, Gavin wasn’t inclined towards distracting them.

Never mind an off-day; Gavin was clearly having an off- _month_.

“Hello, Detective Reed?”

Gavin grunted, waving a hand as he chewed on his pen, frustration building in his stomach as he made a few notations.

“Detective Reed, I wish to formally introduce myself – I am Agent Nines.”

Gavin choked on his pen, his head snapping up as ice-cold horror flooded his veins.

“I am here to assist you with your kidnapping case.”

He absently realised that karma had finally caught up to him. Every shitty thing he had done, every person he had fucked over, every nasty thought he ever had… culminated into this moment right here. His shirt hadn’t been washed, there was an unfortunate toothpaste stain on his jeans, ink probably stained his lips, and he had bags under his eyes thanks to the last three sleepless nights.

Also, he had skipped a shower this morning, so his hair was less than spectacular.

So here he was, at his most unattractive _and_ painfully gay, sitting in front of a man who was literally Gavin’s wet dream.

Nines hadn’t changed at all from when Gavin had seen him last – if anything, he was pretty sure the guy had gotten hotter. He was dressed the same – stiff black shirt with a white jacket over the top. It looked painfully buttoned up though, the collar tight around his throat.

His face though, good _fuck_ , his handsome fucking face. All strong edges and high cheekbones, with a jawline that Gavin still wanted to bite. His hair looked soft despite being severely gelled back and his eyes, fuck, they looked like chips of ice. Clear with a greyish-blue hue, with exactly zero emotion shining through. His shoulders were broad, his waist was trim, and Gavin could tell that he had that perfect Dorito-shaped physique.

Gavin loved Doritos.

“Detective, I don’t understand what that has to do with the case?” Nines asked, peering down at Gavin with cold eyes. His voice had no inflection and his expression didn’t even flicker, yet Gavin still felt the flutter of attraction hit him hard. He felt like a pinned butterfly under Nines’ gaze, naked and vulnerable and he wanted nothing more than for Nines to take advantage of him and then put him back together again.

Fuck, he was a mess.

“The fuck?” Gavin asked intelligently, “my case?”

He watched as Nines blinked pointedly – it seemed to be his version of an exasperated sigh.

“As I said before,” Nines said patiently, “I am here to assist you with your case, the one the focuses on kidnapped androids. The DPD have agreed that, due to the last several cases slipping the FBI’s hands, it would be a good show of faith that we work together with this one – had you listened during the meeting, you would have known this.”

Gavin flushed. “I was, uh, distracted,” he admitted, swiping his hand across his nose to rub at the scar self-consciously, “fuck me for zoning out when Perkins starts talking – the guy has as much personality as a dried-up wet wipe.”

“Indeed,” Nines stated, “his personality is less than desirable, but he is competent at his job.”

“He is?” Gavin asked in disbelief, brows raised to his hairline.

Nines considered his question. “Generally speaking, Agent Perkins has an 82% success rate with any case he gets delegated. After my partnering with him, I have seen a significant increase of 8% – personally, the success far outweighs any grievances caused by his attitude.”

“Ah,” Gavin nodded knowingly, “so you _feel_ grieved by him, huh?”

Nines stared down at him, unimpressed. “The grievances felt are entirely Agent Perkins’ own. I agree, his attitude can be an inconvenience at times, but do not misunderstand, I do _not_ feel anything,” he clarified, “forgive me if my language infers otherwise – I am merely using syntax that could be clearly understood by an individual such as yourself.”

Gavin arched a brow. “Well, consider me educated,” he remarked dryly, “I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Good, I have been notified that you are aware of my immunity to deviancy, and I predict our partnership will run smoothly so long as you bare that in mind,” Nines informed him.

“And I predict that this partnership ain’t gonna be shit unless you stay outta my way,” Gavin replied cheerfully, ignoring Connor admonishing him from across the bullpen.

“You are being purposefully provocative,” Nines observed tonelessly, “and I will not indulge such immature behaviours.”

“I can’t help it – I’m _so_ good at being provocative,” Gavin quipped, almost purring his words as he batted his lashes.

Nines’ LED swirled lazily as he peered down his nose at the detective.

“Yes, I am aware,” he said plainly, “I had a taste of your ‘talents’ two days ago during the meeting – I was less than impressed, it must be said.”

 _You want more than a taste?_ Gavin thought wildly, the words on the tip of his tongue.

“You _felt_ unimpressed, huh?” he said instead, wriggling his brows at the android, “did you _feel_ I could do better? Or did you _feel_ that I was inappropriate?”

“I sense a pattern forming here,” Nines observed, his expressionless face not flickering once. Gavin inwardly swore to be as irritating as possible, just to see if he could make the guy crack – getting Cyberlife’s pride and joy to go deviant? Who wouldn’t rise to the challenge?

Nines cocked his head at him. “I understand that humans cannot always control what arouses them, but if you could restrain yourself from objectifying me, that would be much appreciated.”

Gavin blinked, his cheeks hot with mortification. He could absently hear a wave of hushed laughter from behind him, accompanied by gleeful mutters from the assholes who derived joy from seeing the prick detective getting put in his place.

“I wasn’t aware I made you _feel_ uncomfortable,” he said instead, because he was a glutton for punishment.

Nines fists clenched by his sides.

Gavin bit back a smirk – this android was too easy to mess with.

“Unless you wish to be reported for sexual harassment, I suggest you refrain from such lewd behaviours,” Nines warned.

The soft titters grew louder, and Gavin’s cheeks burned brighter.

“S-Sexual harassment?” he asked, outraged, “are you fucking kidding me?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Nines asked flatly.

Gavin blinked at his, eyes wide in disbelief. “You look like Cyberlife skipped the sense of humour programming when they made you – shit. If you didn’t want me to flirt with you—”

“I don’t.”

“—then you could’ve just said,” he stated, his lips twisting downwards unhappily. “Don’t make me out to be some sort of fucking perv. I ain’t like that.”

Nines stared at him impassively. “I believe you – it seems as though you too missed out on a sense of humour when you were created,” he said, looking almost disappointed.

Gavin stared up at him wordlessly, gaping unattractively at the android. He could practically see the smug aura radiating from Nines – it took Tina’s choked laughter to break him out of his reverie, a newfound sense of approval blossoming in his chest.

“You were _fucking_ with me?” he asked, gazing askance to Connor lazily, “you should give Connor 1.0 some pointers, his insults still suck.”

“Liar,” Connor called out, carefully keeping his gaze from straying towards Nines. “Hank said I was improving!”

“Anderson is a biased motherfucker, his opinions don’t count,” Gavin retorted, sharply grinning when Hank presented him with a deliberate middle-finger.

Nines clearly ignored his suggestion about helping Connor; it seemed that he too felt awkward being in the same room as his predecessor and was staunchly doing everything he could to avoid interacting with Connor. Gavin found it highly amusing – he most definitely planned on finding a way to force the pair in a room together, just to see what would happen.

Hank would kill him, but it would be worth it.

“I can see your vitals spiking and judging by the smirk on your face, you plan on doing something inappropriate and imprudent,” Nines stated dryly, “I highly advise against whatever you have planned.”

“You can advise me all you want, doesn’t mean I’m gonna take it on board,” Gavin said, shrugging.

Nines rolled his shoulders back and blinked pointedly again – if he could breathe, the android most definitely would be sighing at him right now.

“As your partner, I heavily suggest you start behaving in a manner that befits a professional detective,” he stated firmly; in the background, Connor began hastily hushing Hank when the man barked out a laugh. Gavin simply rolled his eyes and leant back in his chair, surveying Nines with a coquettish look.

“Why don’t you _make_ me,” he purred.

Then he winked at Nines.

For the first time during their conversation, Nines showed a flicker of emotion. His cold eyes widened minutely, his body rocking backwards as his lips parted slightly. He appeared stunned, his LED a bright gold, as if some brokentoaster.exe code was running in his system. Gavin could almost see the Blue Screen of Death in the android’s eyes and he arched a brow, slightly concerned. If this expensive-ass android broke in front of him, he was not forking out for a replacement.

“Please don’t be fucking broken,” Gavin whined, “that would be such a shitty inconvenience to me right now.”

Hearing him speak appeared to break Nines out of whatever trance he had been trapped in.

“Apologies,” he uttered haltingly, “I was running some internal diagnostics. Results came back positive; also, you are clearly incapable of accomplishing your mission by yourself, so I invite you to swallow your pride and accept the help you obviously need.”

Gavin blinked, a sensation of whiplash hitting him as Nines’ demeanour completely changed. A wild thought streaked across his mind – Nines looked _nervous_. Which was ridiculous, as the android insisted on his immunity to deviancy, so he couldn’t feel something so undignified as _worry_ , right?

Irritation pricked at him though, when he registered the android’s insult.

“You fucking asshole,” he stated, oddly calm despite the bubbling rage under his skin, “no wonder they only made one of you, Cyberlife’s fucking network probably crashed with your ego flooding their systems.”

“It did, actually,” Nines replied, his body tight and restrained, “their systems could not handle my processing power – it required five hundred different hard-drives to properly run through my code. I was simply too much for a technological empire to handle.”

Gavin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, funny how all that ‘processing power’ still doesn’t give you the fucking ability to read a room.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly that I am making everyone uncomfortable,” Nines said, “I just lack the ability to care—”

“I never would have guessed,” Gavin sniped.

“—a fact I am perfectly content with,” Nines finished, ignoring Gavin easily.

Gavin sighed, peering around Nines to glare at Fowler; the man was tucked away in his office, observing the bullpen with a single arched brow. Their eyes met and Fowler’s lips curled up into a self-satisfied grin, clearly proud of himself for hooking Gavin up with the one man who could ruin his life, his career and his pride.

Probably in that order too.

Gavin barely resisted flipping his captain off – instead, he settled back in his seat and contemplated the android.

“So, Fowler and Perkins agreed that we should work together, huh? When the fuck was this decided and why the hell wasn’t I involved?” Gavin asked, lips pulled back in a thin snarl.

Nines sighed. “It was decided during the meeting you ‘zoned’ out of,” he explained patiently, “in fact, you were directly asked if you had a problem; your response was a breathless ‘hell yeah’ with your arousal levels increasing 37%. Fowler then declared that all your future opinions held no weight in our discussions. The fact that you have seemingly forgotten this exchange does not fill me with much confidence in regards to successfully working with you.”

“Shit,” Gavin muttered sullenly, his professional pride suffering under the blow of Nines’ words. He straightened up and tapped his casefiles deliberately. “Whatever. When do we start this shit then, ‘cause I really want to catch this motherfucker.”

“Marco Arnette?” Nines asked, ignoring Gavin’s look of surprise, “yes, I am aware you are investigating him – I hate repeating myself, but as mentioned before, it was brought up in the meeting the other day.”

“So, what, you want my files, see if I have an actual case against him?” Gavin asked, his anger and pride slipping away as a spark of excitement began to blossom in his stomach.

“Oh no, see I have already reviewed your paperwork and I believe you are onto something,” Nines said, arching a brow when Gavin flushed – not many people actually believed him nor were they so willing to just go along with his ideas, "which is why I have managed to gain approval into investigating him this morning. Once we have built a solid case, we can look into our options; I believe going undercover may be our best—"

“Are you fucking with me right now?” Gavin interrupted sharply, holding a hand up to silence the android, “you managed to get _approval_ on investigating Arnette? How the fuck did you score that?”

Nines cocked his head. “I think the better question to ask is: how did you not?” he replied, arching a brow at the fuming detective. The tense silence stretched between them as Gavin fought for an appropriate response that a) wouldn’t get him fired, and b) wouldn’t get him knocked out. Nines seemed to sense Gavin’s conflict as his lips twitched, his LED spinning as he regarded the human before him.

“Fuck off,” Gavin managed to splutter out, his fists clenched as his body trembled with unbridled rage.

Nines hummed contemplatively. “Your wit continues to astound me,” he stated, “and yes, that was a figure of speech, I do not feel astounded literally,” he interjected when Gavin opened his mouth, “now, as fun as this interaction has been, and I assure you, whilst I understand the concept of fun quite well, this barely constitutes as something I would have enjoyed had I the programming to relish in it, I must take my leave. I have some important paperwork to file before we commence our investigation. I shall return in exactly two days.”

Gavin growled at him.

Nines clasped his hands behind his back and inclined his head towards him.

“Please, do not miss me too much,” he said, before he turned neatly on his heel and left the bullpen. The atmosphere Nines left behind was thick with tension; Gavin could feel the eyes of his colleagues on him, the whispers filled with mirth as they delighted in seeing the android talk shit to him. They would never actually say anything to his face – he had perfectly cultivated his reputation in the precinct to ensure that no one would dare say anything to his face.

Unless, of course, they were in the squad – then they were somewhat contractually obligated.

“So,” Tina drawled, soundly smacking her keyboard as her frustration spilled over once more, “he seemed nice.”

Connor shifted uncomfortably as Hank threw his head back and laughed.

Gavin scowled.

“Bullshit. He’s a fucking asshole,” he declared, swinging his legs up onto his desk and folding his arms across his chest, “did you all _hear_ all that shit? I ‘obviously’ need his help? Fuck off! Oh my god, what a _monumental_ prick.”

“Nice to see you’ve met your match,” Hank said lightly, clearly delighted with the show he just witnessed, “I’m calling it now: your boyfriend kicks your ass by the end of the week.”

“I’ll kick _your_ ass by the end of the week,” Gavin retorted childishly, furrowing his brows as he contemplated his current situation. “Shit. What a fucking bastard – who the fuck does he think he is? Piece of FBI-shit-trash-motherfucker.”

“Your vocabulary improves every single day,” Connor observed, his tone distracted as he tried to take a casefile away from Hank. The lieutenant merely batted his hands away, hissing at him as if Connor was Sumo. The android merely held his hands up and settled back into his chair.

“Bite me robo-bitch,” Gavin growled back, snatching a folder from his pile of cases and flicking it open with sharp, jerky movements. Connor contemplated informing him that he was way over his daily quota of abusive comments, but the android guessed it would not be helpful at this point. “Fucking coming up to _my_ desk, in _my_ precinct, wading in on _my_ case… like I’m some incompetent fucking idiot. No, he’s got another thing coming if he thinks I’m just gonna let him walk all over me like that, no matter how pretty his fucking face is!”

“I figured you’d probably enjoy that,” Tina snarked, jabbing her middle-finger up at him when Gavin flipped her off first.

“I swear,” Hank interjected, “if we have one more damn conversation about Reed’s sex life, I will fucking shoot every single prick in here, and then myself! Is that what you want? Because I will fucking do it.”

Silence reigned in the bullpen.

Connor stared at Hank, concern shining in his eyes as he leaned towards the lieutenant.

“Have you been taking your blood pressure tablets,” he asked quietly, suspicion clear in his voice, “because your vitals are telling me a different story.”

“Goddammit Connor! Enough with the scanning my vitals bullshit!” Hank snapped. The android sensed that perhaps today was not a good day to pick battles and backed down, ducking his head sheepishly as he apologised for invading his privacy.

Gavin could see the instant regret lining Hank’s face for snapping at Connor – normally, he would call him out on that shit, but today Gavin had bigger fish to fry. For example, Marco Arnette and his involvement in the android-trafficking scheme that the FBI were _oh-so-interested_ in.

So interested, that they sent over their hot robo-prick of an agent to just completely ruin Gavin’s life.

He rubbed his face tiredly and reviewed his files once more. From glancing over the records of the missing victims, Gavin pinpointed the trafficking as beginning ten months ago. A YK400 model – a boy, with brown hair and green eyes – had been snatched from a playground. No one really gave a shit, ‘cause why would they? Just because Markus had his little revolution didn’t mean humans suddenly gave a shit about androids.

It wasn’t until a famous YK500 model, who had taken part in a child’s beauty pageant, went missing that people began asking questions – it was just a shame that it took seven children to get kidnapped before the media picked it up. It made Gavin’s blood boil that the media were so willing to overlook such crimes because, hey, robo-kids, we used to throw them out all the time, who cares?

Even before Gavin’s revelation that androids weren’t all that bad, he always had a soft spot for kids, regardless of what colour their blood was. At the end of the day, a kid was a fucking kid, and Gavin needed to hunt this fucking monster down and make him pay; he owed it to all those who had been kidnapped and subsequently ignored.

Gavin flipped through his files with a fierce determination, a deep crease between his brows as he compared the dates of Marco’s movements to the dates of kidnapped androids. He managed to suss out a pattern until—

“Fuck! He wasn’t even in the fucking country, fu-uck!” he snarled, throwing the folder onto his desk with a darkly muttered curse.

“Goddamn it!” Tina cried out, three seconds later, “forensics won’t get back with the results for a fucking week!”

“Shit,” Hank hissed, not even a second afterwards, his eyes flying across his screen, “that goddamn asshole killer just confessed to fifteen more murders! He refuses to tell anyone where they’re buried though!”

Chris just released a guttural moan, complete with the dull thud of his head hitting his desk once again.

“Is this an occasion to go drinking?” Connor asked, sensing that the tension wasn’t going away anytime soon.

“Fuck yes!” Tina replied, her tone bordering on the hysteric. Chris nodded desperately. His case had been closed after two whole weeks of working on it, but then one misplaced piece of evidence appearing had cracked the case wide open. He had going home late every night, the bags growing deeper under his eyes. Kate was not impressed and from the sounds of it, Damian less so.

They all had to work the next day, but Connor felt like his humans deserved a break.

Something told him that things were about to get _way_ more complicated anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gavin: holy shit bby, lemme suck your robo-dick, i'll make it so good, i promise  
> nines: ew, why is this sticky gremlin hitting on me
> 
> *ten minutes later*
> 
> gavin: who the fuck do u think u are, fite me mate, i'll fuck u up, u lil bitch  
> nines: marry me you fucking mess of a human


	2. nines totally likes gavin reed

**THE DETROIT POLICE DEPARTMENT**  
**NINE DAYS LATER**

Gavin could feel the excitement buzzing under his skin.

He had been working on this case for weeks and it had taken a further six days for Nines to finally agree on his action plan, but tonight, Gavin finally got to kick his investigation into action. The negotiations with Fowler and Nines had been lengthy and borderline hostile, but Gavin finally got his way with minimal pestering.

The plan was to head down to Pandora’s Box, a glitzy club owned by two of Detroit’s dodgiest businessmen – one being Juliano Bette, a notorious art dealer; the other being Marco Arnette, who was planning on making a rare appearance tonight.

Gavin’s task was to ask Marco for a job – with his scars and surly demeanour, he fit the profile for the ‘bodyguard/thug’ type that Marco enjoyed being surrounded by. The man never went anywhere without three men by his side and rumour was, he paid _very_ well. Nines had agreed that it made sense for Gavin to ask for a job, especially when he oh-so-perfectly looked the part – the detective was 92% sure that the android wasn’t offering him a compliment. Tina only laughed twice when he told her – Hank had helpfully informed him that he always envisioned Gavin as a thug, to which Connor responded by rescinding Hank’s takeout privileges.

Gavin rewarded him with five photos of Coffee Bean and a seven-minute long video of the cat chasing a laserpen.

Whilst Gavin charmed his way into Marco’s inner circle, Nines would be outside, keeping an eye on things via Gavin’s wire and earpiece – the android had also insisted that the detective wore a discreet oximeter by the pulse point in his throat, allowing Nines to keep track of Gavin’s vitals whilst the man was out of sight. It was invasive on all levels, but Gavin was too high on adrenaline to protest wearing it. Chris and Officer Lewis would be on standby at the station, awaiting further instructions. Apparently, Nines had an inside man who keep track of Marco’s gang whilst Gavin kept an eye on the mob boss himself. Regardless, this case was completely Gavin’s and he intended to take the lead on it.

Bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, Gavin shook his body out and gave himself a critical scan in the bathroom mirror. He had brought a change of clothes with him to the precinct, with Tina demanding that she checked them out first. She seemed to approve as she declared the outfit ‘fuck-worthy’; she then wished him luck before she strutted off home.

He wore a thin grey t-shirt which outlined his muscles, a clear demonstration of his strength, and a pair of dark blue jeans with meticulously placed holes in them. They were better suited for style rather than substance, as they were designed to perfectly show off his ass and thighs – the fact that Nines would see him wearing them had nothing to do with his choice, it was just pure coincidence.

Running a hand through his softened and fluffy hair, Gavin sent his reflection a crooked grin. It had been a long time since his last undercover mission – he was a surprisingly good actor when he tried; Gavin found he even enjoyed messing with suspects, playing with their minds and manipulating them into the palm of his hand.

Marco Arnette would be no different to any other pawn in Gavin’s game.

“Come on princess, I’m pretty sure you’ve primped enough,” Chris teased as he opened the bathroom door. Gavin merely flipped him off as he picked up his leather jacket. He shrugged it on and gave himself one last scan – he would look right at home amongst Marco’s crowd. The mob boss liked his bodyguards to dress in neutral colours – it allowed Marco to stand out more, the prick.

“It takes time to be this pretty,” Gavin sighed, biting his lip as he pretended to check himself out, “you wouldn’t understand.”

Chris arched a brow, folding his arms across his chest. “No shit,” he replied, gesturing to his body with a sly grin, “I was born this way.”

Gavin snorted, tearing himself reluctantly away from the mirror – he ran a hand through his hair and struck a pose.

“So, do I look like mob lackey material?” he asked, jutting a hip out as he thrust his chest forward. Chris chuckled lowly, approaching Gavin with an arched brow. He reached up and gently tapped the oximeter on Gavin’s throat, activating the nude mode so it blended in against the detective’s skin. He then gently clasped Gavin’s chin between cupped hands and gave him a faux-serious inspection.

“I don’t know,” Chris mused, his eyes taking in every detail of Gavin’s face, “I think you might be missing a couple of scars. I think Marco has this requirement that his minions need at least ten on the face alone.”

Gavin scowled and batted his hands away. “Duly noted, I’ll let my cats know that they’re slacking,” he replied, rolling his shoulders back as adrenaline began to nip at him once more. He was finally going to see Marco Arnette in person – Fowler had warned him multiple times to be on his best behaviour, especially with an FBI agent assisting with the case, but Gavin figured that no one could truly blame him if he knocked the mob boss out.

Sick fucker had it coming.

“Hey, don’t you blame my baby,” Chris scolded lightly, pushing at Gavin’s shoulder lightly.

The detective scoffed, shouldering past Chris to leave the precinct’s bathroom. “For someone who is allergic to cats, you sure _love_ that orange fucker,” he mused thoughtfully, tugging his jacket across his chest absently.

“I can appreciate him from a distance,” Chris insisted, following him into the bullpen, “I just get his vibes, you know?”

Gavin snorted. “His vibes? Fucker hates everything with a vengeance – when he met Coffee Bean, he shoved her off the bed,” he said, shaking his head as he walked past a row of desks towards Chris’ setup with Lewis.

“And sometimes, I feel like shoving you off a bed,” Chris replied, before he paused, a crease forming between his brows, “a _metaphorical_ bed. Obviously.”

“You wish you could get me into bed,” Gavin snarked.

“I’ve _had_ you in my bed, you’re a goddamn octopus,” Chris complained, wincing when he spied Lewis’ perturbed expression as they reached his desk.

It wasn’t often that they got partnered together, but every time they did, Chris never really gave the man the best impression – Gavin mused that it was probably his fault.

Lewis regarded them wearily for a second, before he held up the radio that would help them communicate with Gavin.

“We’re, uh, all set up. We won’t be synced in, so when you do your… thing, only the andro—ah, _Nines_ , will be listening in. We’ll only connect if something, uh, comes up,” Lewis explained, shifting uncomfortably under Gavin’s cold grey eyes. Officer Lewis hated him, he knew that, but Tina seemed to get along with the guy just fine, so Gavin tried to restrain his shitty behaviour around the man.

“Thanks, I appreciate the lesson on how radios work,” Gavin replied flatly, ignoring Chris’ elbow to his gut. Lewis merely shook his head, before he turned to face the three computer screens before him. One had Marco’s face on it, along with his profile – the other two were slowly scanning through the lists of people and places that were associated with him.

Spread across the table were seven files – each one with a photo of a smiling, innocent child.

Tamron Kyle – the first android to go missing, with his bright green eyes and his brighter smile, had haunted Gavin’s dreams since the case had appeared on his workload.

Tamron’s parents had, at first, been wary with enlisting the help of a human detective who had been openly hostile against androids, but after seeing how serious Gavin truly was, had all but begged him to find their little boy. Tamron’s mother had the same green eyes as her little boy – the android must have changed his eye colour to match hers.

Something painful tugged at Gavin’s heart as he stared at Tamron’s photo.

“Come on man,” Chris murmured next to him, “you got this.”

“Yeah, I got this,” Gavin responded roughly, rolling his shoulders back as he cleared his throat.

“I should hope so,” Nines’ voice called out from behind them, “otherwise the past nine days were a waste of everyone’s time.”

Chris groaned. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to be a little more encouraging,” he drawled, eyeing the android with thinly-veiled amusement. For some bizarre reason, Chris greatly enjoyed speaking to Nines – Gavin didn’t understand why but seeing the two get along made something warm and fuzzy grow in his stomach.

It was probably indigestion.

Probably.

“Why encourage optimism?” Nines asked, honestly curious, “blind optimism creates mistakes – it is far wiser to remain realistic and approach the situation with a critical eye.”

Chris just shook his head as he threw himself into the seat next to Lewis.

“Yeah, but optimism drives determination, you know? It keeps you motivated – when everything looks bleak, it doesn’t hurt to look for a silver lining,” he explained, shrugging when Gavin scoffed at him.

“I see,” Nines said shortly.

Chris frowned at him. “You really don’t, do you?” he asked.

“No, I don’t understand your logic at all,” Nines replied, clasping his hands behind his back as he turned to Gavin. “Shall we go? Marco has reportedly made an appearance at his club – we should move fast, lest he leaves before we arrive.”

Gavin scoffed. “Fucking ‘lest’, he says,” he mocked, punching Chris in the shoulder softly as a farewell, “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Good luck,” Chris called out as Gavin left the bullpen.

“Don’t need it,” Gavin called back.

“Accept it anyway!” Chris ordered, muttering under his breath about ungrateful work kids as he snatched up Tamron’s files.

Gavin merely laughed in response, striding through the precinct’s reception with a low whistle.

“Wow, looking good Gavin!” Shannon called out. Tina’s girlfriend eyed the detective with an appreciative gaze, wolf-whistling when Gavin twirled for her.

“Always knew you had good taste,” he responded, winking at her with a wolfish grin.

“Please stop winking at me,” Shannon complained as she gestured to his body, “you’re ruining the whole aesthetic.”

Gavin’s grin slid off his face as he abruptly flipped her off.

“Detective Reed, please remember we have a case that needs attending,” Nines scolded, eyeing Shannon with a cold look.

Shannon winced and smiled apologetically. “Woops, pissed off your babysitter,” she remarked slyly, “I’ll tell Tina you said ‘hey’, okay?”

Gavin rolled his eyes. “Tell her she still owes me $50,” he drawled, shooting Nines an irritated look.

Shannon snorted. “I though it was only $25 she hustled out of you,” she queried with a coy smile.

Gavin smirked. “It’s called interest and it is fucking building,” he replied, holding his hands up when Nines cleared his throat at him. “Okay, okay – let’s fucking go. Later Shannon!”

“Have fu-un!” she called back, wiggling her fingers at him.

The minute they stepped outside, Gavin made a beeline to where his bike was parked. He was acutely aware of Nines creeping after him like a silent shadow, but he forced himself to ignore the android’s presence as he unhooked the helmet from the bike’s handlebars.

“Interesting choice in motorbike,” Nines stated, as Gavin dug his keys out of his jeans, “a [Ducati Diavel](https://www.totalmotorcycle.com/motorcycles/2018/2018-ducati-diavel-carbon-review) – a 2018 model, correct? A bike such as this would have set you back a substantial amount of money, I am somewhat surprised you had the funds to afford it, especially as it looks modified to keep it in road-worthy condition due to the ageing components. Would you not consider upgrading to an automated model?”

Gavin rolled his eyes as he turned around, perching on the bike’s seat as he settled his helmet in his lap. “It was a gift, so fuck off with your implications that I can’t afford shit. And I don't do automated crap – I like doing things for myself, shocking, right?” he said sardonically.

Nines inclined his head towards him. “You are fiercely independent,” he observed, “this may prove detrimental to our partnership.”

“And I'm completely torn up about it,” Gavin snorted.

Nines regarded him contemplatively, the android’s LED spinning lazily.

“I, myself, have been provided with a motorbike – the recently upgraded transport division in Cyberlife created a series of vehicles with the ability to link to an android's mind. The vehicle becomes more personal and highly advanced: I can upload a GPS route in real time and the bike can adapt accordingly. It also has seven different types of weaponry built into it, as well as recording technology, with infrared cameras and motion sens—"

“Cool. What colour is it?” Gavin asked dismissively.

Nines blinked.

“White,” he replied shortly.

“Huh. Not cool,” Gavin corrected himself, drumming his fingers along his helmet.

Nines frowned at him. “It is the very peak of technology, you cannot just dismiss—”

“—yeah, and they painted it fucking _white_ ,” Gavin interrupted him, amusement clear in his eyes, “lame.”

Nines flicked a glance at Gavin’s bike. The chassis was a glossy black, with the engine and muffler painted an electric blue, the colour matching the spokes in the tires. It appeared to be heavily modified, yet well-loved as Gavin had even painted little blue lightning bolts on the fender.

GAVIN REED IS A PERFECTIONIST

Nines frowned at the message that flitted across his HUD – they had been appearing with increasing frequency; little facts about his partner that didn’t seem important yet were stowed away in his DETECTIVE REED folder. He had very few folders that held such personal information, but it was the one that was updated the most.

Nines found it rather… Į̸̡̬̜̣͕͉̗̟̩̊̆̈́͋̽Ř̸̜̳͙̪͖͋̄̂͛̏̒́́̅̒͆̚R̴̤̙͇͖̫̟̤̣̞̯͖̗̲͗̾̈́̿͐̌̕Ị̷̙̬̜͐̈T̷̮̺̬̱̫͇͓͐͒̆̍̈̆̊́̅͘͝͝A̴̹͖̟̳̙̪̠̮̜̲͍͌̇́̾̈͝Ť̸̡̺͍̮̯͍͍̺I̶̥̣͙̗̩̫͂̈́͂̇̓̇̽̏́̊͘͜Ņ̷̰͂̾͐͋̌͐̐̔G̷̢̻̭͍̥͎̣̘͕̫͊̊̈́̉̓͋̈́͊̋̏̐͘͝͠

He forced the static to disappear from his HUD, choosing to focus his attentions back onto the bike and the human before him.

“I do not understand, colour has little impact on performance,” Nines stated.

“True,” Gavin conceded, “but it has a _massive_ impact on appearance.”

Nines blinked.

“What does that have to do with anything?” he asked, truly curious about Gavin’s logic.

“Everything,” the detective replied.

GAVIN REED VALUES HIS APPEARANCE

Nines deliberately blinked the message away.

“How will anyone take you seriously when you rid something as garish as this?” he asked, gesturing to the bike with his hand. Gavin straightened up, a familiar gleam in his eye.

“Is that a personal opinion?” the detective asked slyly.

Nines' jaw clenched as he contemplated the likelihood of escaping conviction should he murder the detective in cold blood. Gavin seemingly wasn’t looking for an answer – instead, he turned to swing a leg over his bike.

“Anyway, I'm gonna ride my bike out to this place and _you_ ,” the detective gestured airily to Nines’ body, “can do whatever you want to do. Drive that automated piece of shit. Knock yourself out. Peace.” He flicked up the peace sign before fitting his helmet over his head.

“It would be more efficient if we drove to the club together,” Nines asserted. Gavin’s exposed eyes gleamed against the glossy black of his helmet.

“Yeah, but then Marco wouldn’t get to see my badass bike,” he drawled, his voice muffled slightly. “We’re trying to impress him, remember?”

Nines’ lips twitched – an error in his facial programming that had formed. Whenever a displeasing or inconvenient situation presented itself to him, he would experience a glitch. Nines supposed that if he could, he would be frowning at the human right now.

“How is this supposed to impress him?” he asked, casting the bike a cold look.

Gavin snorted, looking at Nines askance. “I hope you give Connor this much shit about his 'garish' wardrobe,” he snarked, “that fucking Care Bear doesn’t impress anyone.”

Nines tilted his head. “Why would I speak to RK800?” he asked flatly.

Gavin blinked, leaning back in the bike’s seat to regard the android warily.

“Because he's... you know, you? _Older_ you?” he suggested, cocking his head, “You seriously don't wanna get to know him or talk to him? Or even call him fucking Connor?”

Nines shook his head.

“I have no interest in speaking with him,” he stated.

Gavin clucked his tongue. “Cold, man. That's fucking cold. You know he's gonna try and make nice with you – you upset him, and I'll be obliged to fuck your shit up,” the detective warned, his grey eyes piercing and hard.

Nines was mildly taken aback. “I honestly do not see you achieving that at all,” he revealed.

Gavin shrugged and slid the helmet’s eye shield down. “I'll fuck you up if you make him cry,” he promised airily.

“Detective Reed,” Nines said patiently.

“Fuck you up,” Gavin repeated, turning the bike’s engine on and revving the vehicle.

“Detective Reed!” Nines snapped.

Gavin’s deep laugh rang out from beneath his helmet as he reversed the bike and revved it up once more. He found it to be increasingly easy to antagonise the apparently emotionless android – he wondered if he should tell Cyberlife that they were full of shit if they thought they could create the ‘perfect machine’.

Nines clearly demonstrated more emotion than some humans Gavin knew.

“Fuck! You! Up!” he called out cheerfully as he drove off, leaving behind a cloud of dust and a highly unamused android.

Immune to deviancy… his _ass_.

* * *

**PANDORA’S BOX**  
**9.39PM**

‘I have reported your insubordination with your captain,’ Nines’ cool voice crackled over Gavin’s discreet earpiece, ‘he did not seem surprised, nor troubled by this matter – in fact, he helpfully informed me that I should expect no better and if I could not handle you right now, then I should rethink our partnership as a whole.’

Gavin barely restrained his snort.

‘I feel like he has issued me a challenge,’ Nines continued, ‘one that I intend on winning.’

Gavin flagged down a bartender, using his hand to hide the smirk on his face.

He had arrived at the bar thirty-minutes before Nines, and in that time, he had checked out the place and ordered several drinks, courtesy of the precinct’s pre-paid credit card. Pandora’s Box was a tacky place in Gavin’s opinion – it was all gilded furniture and oversized chandeliers, with an ostentatious bar taking over the very centre of the club. The music played was muted, but heavy, with bass that reverberated in Gavin’s body. The employees were dolled up in tight cocktails dresses and skimpy shirts, batting their eyelashes at every customer that headed their way.

Gavin had rooted himself against the bar when Nines’ cold voice finally broke through their connected comms – the android was resolutely unimpressed, but Gavin knew Nines could handle his shit. The android earned it anyway – fucker didn’t even bat an eyelid at what Gavin was wearing, it left his ego slightly bruised. Therefore, Gavin he felt no shame in buying the most expensive cocktail on the menu to help him recover.

‘Interesting choice of beverage,’ Nines mused, ‘doesn’t exactly scream hardened thug, I must admit.’

“It’s 2039,” Gavin muttered under his breath, “let hardened thugs enjoy fruity drinks.”

‘You’re hardly a thug,’ Nines remarked, ‘you have to be _obedient_ to be a thug.’

“Fucker,” Gavin hissed, nodding his thanks when the bartender placed an elaborate cocktail in front of him. It was dusky pink in colour, with candyfloss resting atop the drink. The girl behind the bar had also sprinkled glitter over it, and had inserted two sparklers that she lit with great gusto.

“There we go! One Pretty in Pink Lady – that will be $9.75, thanks!” the bartender trilled, holding her hand out for Gavin’s credit card. He passed it over, giving her a critical scan as he did so. Her nametag said Carla, and her hair was as pink as the drink she had just created. She seemed too nice and bouncy for such a dodgy place, but there was a slight bulge of muscle that lined her arms. Gavin guessed she knew how to handle herself in a place like this – shame she had to handle herself at all, really.

He waited for the sparklers to fizz out, picking the sticks out and setting them aside delicately. As he began to pick at the candyfloss, Carla came flouncing back to pass him back the credit card; he nodded at her and tucked it away. Fowler would fucking kill him when he saw the bill – would be worth it though.

‘Please, do not become too inebriated,’ Nines warned, ‘we still have a job to do.’

Gavin scowled as he shoved candyfloss into his mouth.

“Fuck off,” he muttered, shifting slightly to hide his mouth from potential eavesdroppers, “I’m a goddamn professional.”

‘Of course you are.’

Gavin huffed out a breath of amusement, nibbling at the candyfloss as he contemplated his next move. Marco was most likely hiding out in his office right now – Gavin couldn’t find him before, but guessed the man wouldn’t be down until later, when the club reached peak popularity. Gavin would probably make the rounds, see if anyone actually knew Marco; there was a high chance he could get a meeting arranged, ask for a job, charm the fucker into seeing that he was perfect bodyguard-material.

He had to move quickly though.

The longer this shit took, the likelier it was for another kid to get stolen.

Gavin grit his teeth at the thought of an eighth child being drawn into Marco’s sick schemes – it was bad enough when Nines admitted that he couldn’t even find any evidence of the whereabouts of the seven other children.

An eighth child going missing would probably set Gavin back several steps on his investigation.

Gavin snarled to himself as he finally took a long draught from his drink – the taste was tart and fizzy, the vodka burning the back of his throat in a way that had him gagging. He always hated the burn, but it was worth it for the aftereffect.

Probably explained why he drank whiskey.

He didn’t even _like_ whiskey.

“What’s a sweet thing like you doing in a place like this?” a deep voice, rough and accented, came from behind him, breaking him free from his thoughts.

Gavin froze – his mind torn between taking advantage of this new development, and retching out in revulsion.

‘Marco Arnette has approached you. It seems he has misunderstood your purpose for being here; this is not good,’ Nines observed, and Gavin knew the android would be frowning if Cyberlife had provided him with the programming.

‘Not good’ though? Nah, not good was _seven_ fucking kids getting kidnapped and the media not giving a shit.

‘Not good’ was the lack of evidence surrounding their disappearances.

‘Not good’ would be Gavin not taking advantage of this golden opportunity and ‘not good’ would be him letting all those kids down if he abandoned his plan now.

“C’mon sweet thing, don’t ignore me,” Marco purred again, but Gavin could hear the irritation underlining the pretty words.

‘This is not good,’ Nines repeated.

 _You’re wrong_ , Gavin thought, _this is fucking perfect_.

Gavin knew he was crappy fucking person, but no one could tell him that he wasn’t a good detective. From the sounds of it, their plan to make him hired help was out of the question – he could totally play at the part of Marco’s bedwarmer though. It was nice to know that his jeans worked on _someone_.

Turning around, Gavin allowed his shoulders to drop, his hips popping to one side as he ducked his head down. Coquettishly, he glanced up at Marco with a small smile. He suddenly embodied the character of a ditzy little diva who was humbled that such a _strong_ and _powerful_ man had noticed him – little old him in this big, fancy club.

“Hi there. I’m Antony – oh wow, you’re _Marco_ , right? You own this place? Wow,” he breathed excitedly, lashes fluttering when Marco smirked down at him. Fuck, Marco was a huge wall of a man, 6ft5 with a wide chest and thick arms. He had bright green eyes and fingers thicker than Gavin’s wrists. He was dressed in a burgundy silk shirt with the top three buttons undone, a furry chest peeking out from beneath it. A crucifix hung from around his neck, platinum to match his watch and the three rings he wore on his right hand. “It’s been a long time since anyone called me ‘sweet’.”

Marco clucked his tongue. “I would consider that a shame, _Antony_ ,” he responded, “but I guess that means less competition for me.” His voice was a deep rolling purr, his green eyes flicking over Gavin’s figure with obvious interest.

“Oh? I would have taken you as a man who liked a challenge,” Gavin replied, biting his lip as he tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. It was getting long enough to do so, especially as he had forgone any hair products, which meant a haircut was due.

“A competition I enjoy,” Marco replied, “but I prefer not to fight for my conquests. I enjoy it when they come to me willingly, enthusiastic and eager to please.” He reached up to stroke along Gavin’s prominent scar, eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the damage. “I know how to treat a doll like you. Some men are rough and uncaring – I like to take care of my things.”

Gavin bit back the gagging feeling deep in his throat.

“And you would just love to take care of me, right?” Gavin sassed, “I’ve heard that before.”

‘Easy Detective Reed,’ Nines intoned, ‘remember why we’re here.’

“I mean it,” Marco said, gazing over to the bartender and gesturing for another round, “I’d treat you like a prince, just let me prove it.”

Gavin blinked as another Pretty in Pink Lady was placed in front of him.

‘Do not drink that. Do not go anywhere with him,’ Nines’ voice was clipped, the audio crackling sharply, ‘we have not prepared for this, it is not safe. We can finish this another day – turn him down and come back.’

Well. That was a dumb idea – Marco was eating out of his palm; going home with him was the obvious route to take. The amount of information Gavin could glean if he went back with him, to Marco’s actual home… it would be stupid to refuse.

 _Seven fucking kids. Seven fucking kids, scared and alone, probably surrounding by the sickest people alive and you want me to just drop this shit like it’s hot?_ Gavin thought bitterly, _fuck that, I’ll suck this motherfucker’s dick if gets Tamron and the others back home safe._

‘Gavin, I order you to turn him down,’ Nines repeated.

 _And I order to you to fuck off_ , Gavin mentally replied, focusing his full attention on the mob boss in front of him. His mouth curled up into a coy smile and he bit his lower lip with a shy shrug.

“I don’t know,” he mused, circling the rim of his glass with a finger, “my mother warned me about going home with strange men.”

He bit back a laugh when Nines cursed lowly over the comms.

The android had definitely learned _that_ word from him.

Marco laughed, coarse and smug. “It seems her lesson has yet to sink in,” he said, tapping Gavin’s nose lightly. “Let me teach you a new lesson.”

Gavin snorted, “I could be tempted,” he teased, “but if your lesson involves a belt and calling you daddy, then you should know something _very_ important, mister.” He wagged his finger in the mob boss’ face, his heart beating wildly as Nines continued to command him to abandon the mission.

“Oh,” Marco quirked a brow, “tell me doll.”

“My safeword is ‘poodle’,” Gavin stage-whispered, grinning at the man as he scooped up some candyfloss and tucked it into his mouth in one smooth motion. He had expected his words to affect Marco, but he wasn’t expecting such a reaction from Nines.

‘You’re lying,’ Nines hissed darkly, ‘I can tell from your pulse jumping that you hate having to call men daddy, it disgusts you – you don’t enjoy being spanked with anything harder than a paddle and you seem more the type to use the traffic light system rather than actual words. Safer for you and your partner to remember what they are and what they mean.’

Gavin inaudibly gulped.

How the fuck had Nines gathered all that from his fucking _pulse_?

“You won’t need it with what I have planned for you,” Marco promised, eyes dark with lust. His hand had come to grip Gavin’s hip, his thumb rubbing circles against the bone. Gavin bared his teeth and leaned away.

“Nuh uh,” he said playfully, “I don’t fuck without my safewords, so find yourself another pillow prince to play with.”

‘Finally,’ Nines stated shortly, ‘some truth. Now, please cease what you are doing and return to the car.’

“Well, well,” Marco murmured, and if it was possible, his eyes grew even darker from desire, “looks like my kitten has claws.”

Oh.

Oh no.

Gavin’s grip on his glass slipped as he gazed up at Marco with a faintly flushed expression. His body began to tingle with the familiar build of arousal. He hated the fact that he reacted so quickly to that fucking nickname – his last fuck-buddy had been into pet-play, which at the time had unnerved Gavin, until he realised what it entailed.

Being spoiled and praised like a cat did wonders to his crumbling self-esteem.

God – it had been _so_ long since he’d played like that in the bedroom. It was like he was touch-starved, but for kinky sex. Hearing a man like Marco growl at him like that made every hair prick up on his body. He licked his dry lips and couldn’t help but sway towards the man’s body, like a magnet being pulled towards the promise of a good orgasm.

For a split second, he even forgot he was on a case.

“Ah,” Marco purred, eyes lighting up as he recognised Gavin’s reaction for what it was, “so I have a kitten on my hands. Let’s see what I can do to make you purr.”

_Shit._

_Shit._

_Seven kids._

_You’re doing this for seven innocent kids – don’t get distracted, you’re not doing this to get laid, you’re doing this so this slimy fucking creep gets put down like the mangy fucking mutt he is._

‘Detective?’ Nines flat voice made Gavin jerk, breaking the detective out of his trance, ‘what are you doing? Your vitals are spiking dangerously; if you do not provide me with a signal that you are fine, then I will have too—’

Gavin brushed his hair behind his ear and subtly switched the audio off on his earpiece. Nines was distracting and if he was going to honeypot Marco, then he needed absolute concentration.

He swallowed roughly, his body trembling as Marco reached up to cup his face with one hand. His thick fingers buried deep into Gavin’s hair, his thumb pressed hard against a cheekbone. He didn’t give the detective a chance to move or even speak, he simply struck, like a snake after its prey. He dove in quick, pressing up close against Gavin’s body as he pushed his lips against him. Marco’s lips were thick and his tongue heavy as it invaded Gavin’s mouth – the man kissed like he wanted to possess him, like every inch of Gavin he touched now belonged to him. His hand crept around to Gavin’s nape, the grip unyielding – Marco wasn’t willing to let him go without a fight.

Gavin clutched at the man’s shoulders, torn between pushing him away and pulling him in closer as he mentally debated the pros and cons of what he was doing and how it would affect the case. Fowler would get on his ass and Chris would give him his ‘unhappy dad’ face, but sometimes this shit needed to be done – especially if it ended with the kids of Detroit being safe from this fucker. Baring that thought in mind, Gavin rested his hands on the man’s chest, trying hard to keep with the man’s aggressive and intense kissing technique. All he could taste was ash and scotch, he could feel Marco’s hand slip from his hip and trail along to his ass, squeezing it and humming with appreciation. Gavin’s skin rippled with goosepimples, disgust mingled with determination as he concentrated on seducing Marco thoroughly.

Then the man’s groin pressed firmly against his hip.

Gavin’s fight or flight instinct kicked it – before he could decide whether to encourage Marco or push him away, the decision was suddenly made for him.

A strong hand landed on his shoulder, yanking him away from Marco with little fanfare. He choked as he was torn from the mob boss, his lips stinging and his body sore from where Marco had gripped him. Gavin flew back into a hard body, a firm arm coming around to wrap around his waist.

“Excuse me,” Nines said smoothly, his voice soft and oddly threatening, “but you seem to be under the impression that you have permission to touch what is mine.”

Oh.

Oh no.

That tingle of arousal came rushing back, flooding Gavin’s senses without mercy – it annoyed him to admit it, but nothing got him going like being _wanted_. Being needed was too much, had too many extra obligations and unnecessary requirements. Being _wanted_ was simpler, it was about desire and yearning and all sorts of delightful and possessive feelings.

The mere thought of Nines _wanting_ made him feel…

Well.

All sorts of delightful and possessive feelings.

Gavin whined deep in his throat, barely aware that he still had an act to follow. Nines looked so damn good – he had relinquished the uniform in favour of dark jeans and a black turtleneck. The android had styled his hair in a manner that hid his LED from view too; he looked like a beautiful human, on the warpath and ready to tear shit up. God, did Gavin _want_. Gavin squirmed in Nines’ grip, sending Marco a pleading look; the man fell for it, hook, line and sinker.

“And you seem to be under the impression that he wants you,” Marco replied, holding a hand out for Gavin to take. A whirring noise which vibrated against Gavin’s back took him by surprise – if he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that Nines had growled. Gavin flushed, mentally weighing up the odds of going back with Nines or progressing the case with Marco.

Fuck.

If he closed this case, then not only would those kids be safe, but the sergeant exam would be his.

“Richard,” Gavin hissed up at Nines, the name popping to mind without much thought, “what part of ‘we are over’, don’t you understand?”

“Antony,” Nines snapped, “enough of this fooling around, we are leaving.”

Marco chuckled lowly. “So, this is the brute who can’t look after his things,” he murmured, gaze scanning Nines. Whatever he was looking for clearly left him disappointed. “Such a cold man, aren’t you aware that kittens prefer a little… warmth?”

He grabbed Gavin’s hand and roughly yanked him back, causing Gavin to fall against his body. With his face safely tucked away against Marco’s chest, he wrinkled his nose in disgust. The man’s cologne was thick and spicy. Marco’s giant hand carded through his hair, the other pressed dangerously low on the small of his back. Gavin enjoyed having the shit dominated out of him, but this whole tug-of-war affair was beginning to piss him off.

Squirming, he placed his hands upon Marco’s chest and pushed himself away, leaning back so he could face the mob boss properly.

“Listen,” he murmured, “this is fun, but a guy can only take so much foreplay. So, either you take me back to your place and fuck me, or bend me over this bar quick, because I have patience honey,” he then bared his teeth, narrowing his eyes in a show of bratty frustration, “and I’m quickly running out of it.”

Marco’s lips curled up in a sickly-sweet smile, the hand in Gavin’s hair stroking softly before the fingers curled around the strands and pulled tight. Gavin twitched from the pain, a whine ripping from his throat that had Nines releasing that same growling noise as before.

“Do not order me around,” Marco hissed, “you’re pretty, but not that pretty.”

“Fu-uck,” Gavin breathed, panicking at the thought of losing his cover. Fuck, he always had to go too far, always acting without thinking shit through, “my bad honey, I’ll remember to hold back my claws next time.”

Marco scoffed, releasing his grip on Gavin’s hair, watching as the man lolled forward, wincing slightly.

“See that you do,” he warned, “because next time, I may feel tempted to declaw you altogether.”

Gavin blinked, the whole analogy running away from him because what the fuck did that mean? Like, rip his nails out? Cut his dick off? Kill him? Was Marco implying that he’d kill him, because what the hell did that even mean?

Pouting, Gavin nodded, batting his lashes with an apologetic hum.

“Pathetic,” Nines stated, making Gavin jump. He had forgotten that the android was behind him. “If you cannot handle his bratty nature then you don’t deserve him at all.”

“Says the man he ran away from,” Marco pointed out, “to the man whose arms he ran into.”

Nines scoffed. “You’re also a man who is clearly incompetent when it comes to matters of a sexual nature,” he retorted. Gavin inwardly groaned – Nines wasn’t quite the master of wit, but he was trying, Gavin could see that. “If you cannot handle a brat, then you cannot handle anything.”

Marco sneered. “I have no time for training brats,” he declared, grip tightening on Gavin as if to warn him, “I find them irritating and a waste of time. Surely you can agree?”

“On the contrary,” Nines murmured, his gaze unreadable when it flicked over to Gavin, “I find them positively endearing.”

A breathy gasp left Gavin’s lips, his body prickling with heat as he registered Nines’ words.

Christ, he was supposed to be a damn professional and here he was, panting like a cat in heat between two hungry Toms. Shaking his head, Gavin tried to refocus his attention onto the case at hand. He had seven missing kids to find, a sick fucker to prosecute, and an android to impress.

Preferably in that order.

“Fuck, Richard,” he said gruffly, acutely aware of how bright his cheeks were, “you always do this shit. You can’t keep expecting me to fold and do whatever you want ‘cause you throw some pretty words my way.”

“And I expect you to do as you’re told for once in your life,” Nines retorted.

Gavin growled. “If you honestly expected that of me, then you really don’t fucking know me at all,” he replied, “I am staying – that’s fucking final.”

For the second time since meeting him, Nines’ icy façade broke.

His lips curled back into a snarl, his hands tightly fisted as his LED burned brightly red through his dark hair – the light was a stark warning against pale skin. Gavin winced upon seeing it; he had never seen Nines’ LED turn red before and terror briefly tore throughout his body. Marco, however, tensed up, his expression tight with disgust.

“An android?” Marco questioned, his words thick with abhorrence as he leaned back, scanning Nines with a suspicious glare. “You fucked an android?”

“I was curious,” Gavin bit out, resolutely keeping his gaze on Nines’ LED.

“Shit,” Marco cursed, “hope he didn’t give you a virus.”

He then laughed coldly at his own joke; Gavin barely resisted rolling his eyes.

 _Fuck_ , he thought absently, _was I as bad as this prick?_

“I find your humour to be sorely lacking,” Nines stated dryly.

Marco laughed once more – his smile was tight, but his eyes were void of emotion. Gavin inaudibly sighed, frustrated with Nines’ interference – he quickly began to plan: if they really had to drop everything here, could he still use this in future? Could he return to the club and seduce Marco into giving him what he wanted? He’d have to get Nines to keep quiet on this shit, ‘cause Fowler very rarely gave Gavin the go-ahead to play honeypot.

Fuck – he had to think fast.

“Listen, playtime is over,” he said roughly, eyeing Nines with unadulterated frustration, “I’m staying whether you like it or not,” Nines’ LED flashed red again, causing Gavin to shiver slightly, “you need to go.”

_You need to leave before you ruin this completely._

_Before Marco loses interest._

_Before Kid #8 gets taken._

_Before I punch you in the goddamn, fucking fa_ —

‘Hey, head’s up,’ Chris’ voice suddenly crackled through the Gavin’s earpiece – Nines must have hacked it back on when Gavin turned it off, ‘we just got an anonymous confession about Marco, we’ve got three of his bases logged and orders to arrest the bastard; move in!’

Gavin blinked, tilting his head as he smiled coyly at the mob boss.

Irritation prickled his nerves, however, at the thought of some anonymous fucker cracking his case before him, but knowing that there wouldn’t be an eighth child disappearing helped him hamper down on those feelings.

“Well,” he purred, his attitude doing a 180° as he stepped away from Marco with a sharp little grin, “you heard the man.”

Nines’ responding smile was ugly and terrifying – he swooped in, grabbing one of Marco’s arms and twisting it behind his back roughly. His LED shone blue though and Gavin had the odd notion that Nines was enjoying this.

“Get your damn hands off me, you metallic piece of shit,” Marco snarled, squirming against Nines’ grip fruitlessly. The android was an unmoving wall of pure metal and plastic though, his hold too strong for the mob boss to escape from.

“Marco Arnette, you are under arrest for the crimes of kidnapping, trafficking and being a general fucking creep. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law, you piece of shit,” Gavin recited bitterly. As he read the mob boss his rights, he couldn’t help but let the anger build within him. He was willing to bend over and let this fucker have his merry way with him to get this goddamn case closed and all it fucking took was some piece of shit to squeal?

Fuck that.

Although he was glad that a whole trafficking circuit would be closed, Gavin still felt bitter that it wouldn’t be his name getting credited with closing this case.

No – it had to be a fucking _snitch_.

He finished reading Marco’s his rights by rubbing at his temples – a sharp pain sparked at the thought of having to interrogate this asshole later.

Fuck, it was going to be a long-ass night.

“You stupid whore,” Marco hissed, eyes blazing with hatred as he glared at Gavin, “you have no idea who you’re messing with! When my lawyer is done getting rid of these ridiculous charges, I’m coming after you. Your pretty face is mine, you little bitch! Trust me when I say I won’t be treating you so nice when we meet again!”

Gavin smirked, “promises, promises,” he purred, delighted with the way Nines gripped Marco’s hair tightly, yanking it back to snarl in his ear.

“Your lawyer won’t want to touch you once I’m finished with him,” Nines promised, eyes gleaming in the low light of the club. “And in the unlikely event where you manage to slip away from your guilty charges, I will be there, and I will be waiting. You will slip up and you will make a mistake – when you do, I will be watching.” Nines words were cold as he hoisted Marco up, forcing the man to march out of the club. The spectators fled from his path, the club’s patrons had fallen completely silent from the moment Nines had produced his handcuffs, “Furthermore, should you entertain your delusions of hurting Detective Reed, then I shall make you regret it. I will make your every waking moment, a living nightmare. Every breath you take, will be one you curse; I will have you _longing_ for death, understand?”

“Are you threatening me?” Marco demanded incredulously, “I highly doubt your superiors would approve!”

“But I haven’t said anything,” Nines hissed back with a small amount of glee, “nothing you can prove, right Detective Reed?”

“Right,” Gavin agreed hoarsely, his hands trembling as he stared at Nines, wide-eyed and fiercely aroused. His legs felt numb as he stumbled after the pair – every word Nines spoke left his nerves feeling flayed and raw. Wetting his dry lips, he tried to think of something more intelligent to say but gazing after Nines’ firm body left his mind blank and his pants tight. “Didn’t hear a thing.”

The bouncers at the door had folded their arms, flexing the muscles minutely as Nines approached with his cargo. Gavin didn’t see the expression on the android’s face, but whatever the bouncers saw had them scarpering sharply out of the way.

The night air was cool on his face when they left the club – the bouncer on the door barely batted an eyelid as they strode past him, too busy with scanning IDs and checking bags. A chorus of gasps and whispers erupted as they walked past the queue of patiently waiting clubgoers. Gavin paid them no mind, his attention solely focused on his partner.

He wondered if Nines knew how deviant his behaviour was – if the android was aware that he was acting like an avenging angel of death and justice.

“Arrested Marco, heading back now,” Gavin reported back to Chris via his wire, suddenly remembering that the man was still waiting back at the station for a reply.

‘Cool – the teams have searched his bases. No kids, unfortunately, but we finally have some evidence apparently,’ Chris replied back, sounding as tired as Gavin felt.

“Better that nothing,” Gavin muttered.

‘Amen,’ Chris agreed, before he turned their link off.

Gavin stifled a yawn, trudging after Nines towards the android’s designated car – a standard model for law enforcement use, it was completely automated and jet-black in colour. Perfect for undercover use and it blended well against the dark alley Nines had parked it in.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, the chilly air biting at his skin beneath his thin shirt. He had left his jacket at the precinct, thinking that he wouldn’t need it. Gavin cursed his past self and watched silently as Nines forced Marco into the back of his car.

“You are going to regret this,” the mob boss hissed in Nines’ face.

The android gazed back at him impassively.

“I highly doubt that,” he replied, before shoving Marco roughly into the car. Nines slammed the door shut, before he turned to face Gavin with a blank expression. With little fanfare, the android reached over to cup Gavin’s face gently, his LED spinning twice as he scanned the human over.

Gavin froze under the touch, his eyes wide with shock.

“Are you okay?” Nines murmured, his eyes soft in the moonlight, “I know our plan did not go as it should have and I am slightly exasperated that you allowed yourself to stray from what we originally agreed on doing, but I understand your logic. You are highly adaptable in stressful situations – this will be a beneficial trait should we be partnered again.”

“I did what I had to do,” Gavin shrugged, annoyance prickling under his skin as he batted Nines’ hands away, “why the fuck did you try to call me back anyway? What, you didn’t trust me to do a good enough job? Didn’t think I could handle shit?”

“You are incredibly defensive,” Nines noted with a sigh, “I simply didn’t trust the situation you were in – I only had an audio feed, which gives me very little information for me to go on. The preconstructions I could build were not reliable enough and I did not want you to persist in a scenario where the potential for you to get unnecessarily hurt was so high.”

“Listen, his dick wouldn’t have been the first I sucked for this job, okay? I’ve been in these shitty situations before, I can protect myself, I can handle this shit!” Gavin snapped, his arousal quickly being replaced by fury. “I don’t need some high-tech asshole telling me how to do my job, got it?”

“Your short temper is such an inconvenience,” Nines observed, LED spinning yellow for a moment. “We had a plan and it changed – we had no information to work on, we didn’t even factor in Marco’s sexuality, we needed to explore our options further before sending you to his bed. What would you have done should he have discovered the wire on your body – his hands certainly wandered enough, and you did not seem to be in the right frame of mind when dealing with him.”

Gavin bared his teeth. “Who the _fuck_ do you think you are?” he demanded, pointing at the android with an aggressive finger. “You suggesting I wasn’t focusing on my job back there? What, was I not professional enough for you? Maybe I should’ve stopped dicking around and hightailed it outta there like you said – oh wait, then he would’ve been told by one of his cronies that a pal of his squealed and he would’ve fucking disappeared. He’d probably kidnap a few kids along the way, but it wouldn’t matter, ‘cause we would’ve fucking lost him! You should be thanking me for keeping him distracted!”

“You put yourself in danger, recklessly so,” Nines coldly bit back, his yellow LED glowing in the dark alleyway. “We had all the information we needed that would have allowed us to track him down! His hideouts, his cars, his face even! He would not have been able to leave the city without us knowing!”

“Well, thanks to me, he didn’t even get to leave the club!” Gavin sniped, “and you know what? You’re goddamn welcome, you fucking pri—!”

“Is this foreplay for my benefit or is this just normal for you two?” Marco called out, leaning against the window with a look of disgust on his face.

“Oh?” Gavin drawled innocently, raising his brows as he gazed down at Marco with an incredulous expression, “are we… are we making you… _uncomfortable_? Oh shit, baby, I think we’re making the mob boss uncomfortable!”

“Indeed,” Nines agreed, his LED fading back to blue as he stared down at Marco, “odd, I thought he would have appreciated a little entertainment. After all, he’ll be hard-pressed to find any in prison – he should be thanking us for the show.”

“Oh baby,” Gavin breathed, “you know I enjoy it when you talk dirty.”

“Hush darling,” Nines responded dryly, “be a good boy for me, otherwise the only handcuffs I’ll be using tonight will be for Marco’s benefit.”

“You’re such a goddamn tease,” Gavin replied heatedly.

“You like it when I tease,” Nines purred.

“Please,” Marco moaned, gently smacking his head against the window, “for the love of God, stop, fucking hell.”

Gavin and Nines finally looked away from the mob boss, glancing up at each other. Nines’ lips twitched slightly, before he turned away to connect his comms with the precinct, pressing two long fingers against his LED as he did so. Gavin swallowed roughly and leant against the car. He watched as Nines spoke to Chris, confirming that an interrogation cell had been set up for Marco, and that Fowler had been informed of the situation as well.

The anger from before had left Gavin, dissipating in midst of teasing Marco with Nines. Now he just felt tired, drained in a way that only challenging cases made him feel. It was like a hangover, but without the fun drinking part. Stretching out, he slowly made his way towards his bike when a wall of android intercepted his path.

“Your exhaustion levels have reached a worrying peak,” Nines stated, “I will escort you back to the precinct and you may collect your motorbike in the morning. I have been assured that it will be looked after. Once we have processed Marco, I will take you home – I do not trust you to get there in one piece.”

Gavin didn’t even argue – he just lazily flipped the android off and got into the car. Yanking the seatbelt on, he shuffled down his seat and leaned against the window.

Nines was hot, but fuck was he so _goddamn_ annoying.

* * *

**THE DETROIT POLICE DEPARTMENT**  
**11.42PM**

Thankfully, the first face Gavin saw upon arriving back at the precinct wasn’t Fowler’s, but Chris’. The man neatly stepped out of the way as Nines marched Marco to the interrogation cells – he sent the android a quick thumbs-up before he refocused his attention on Gavin.

Chris grinned at him, sauntering over to grasp at Gavin’s shoulder tightly.

A silent congratulations.

It made Gavin grow warm from the inside out.

“Marco has a crush on me,” he threw out exhaustedly, not wanting to get into anything serious so soon.

Chris blinked as he slowly registered Gavin’s words, before he threw his head back and chortled.

“Guess we should’ve figured that all those guys weren’t actually hired help,” he laughed, his eyes crinkled with mirth, “who knew they’d end up being eye-candy?”

“Told you I was pretty,” Gavin retorted, a proud smirk on his face.

“The prettiest,” Chris agreed, before his smile slid off his face. Gavin knew what was coming and he barely restrained himself from huffing with irritation. Chris leaned in close, folding his arms across his chest. “You okay though? This wasn’t supposed to be a honeypot mission – did he touch you? Kiss you? Hurt you at all?”

“You know,” Gavin began slowly, shoving his hands in his pockets, “if you want us to stop treating you like a dad, you should probably stop _acting_ like a damn dad!”

Chris frowned. “I don’t mind being your work dad,” he insisted, “especially if it keeps you out of trouble. _Sober_ trouble.” Gavin scoffed. “Seriously man, did Marco touch you?”

Gavin shrugged. “We made out a little, but that was it. Probably would’ve gone further if Nines hadn’t come storming in. Fucking controlling asshole – couldn’t handle the fact that I didn’t need him, that I was progressing with the case just fine without him. Jesus.”

Chris looked taken aback – his brows were raised to his hairline, his eyes wide with shock.

“Nines… came storming in?” he asked incredulously, “because you were making out with a mob boss?”

Gavin spluttered. “No, fuck, he was upset ‘cause he told me to drop the case and he was pissed ‘cause I was being ‘insubordinate’ again and he couldn’t handle that shit!” he corrected Chris hotly.

Chris blinked – if it was possible, his brows raised even higher.

“He told you to drop the case?” he asked, stepping back from Gavin to check him over curiously.

“Yeah. When Marco began hitting on me, dude threw a fucking fit ‘cause his shitty preconstructions wouldn’t show him how this shit would play out,” Gavin explained, “I told him to fuck off – I wasn’t dropping shit!”

Chris blinked again.

“Are you for real?” he questioned, “’cause you know, if Tina was here, she’d have punched you by now.”

Gavin furrowed his brows. “The fuck? Why? I didn’t do anything,” he asserted, throwing his hands up with frustration.

“Exactly,” Chris sighed, his eyes flickering over Gavin’s face, spying how tired the man was. “Listen, let’s go question this dude and then, seriously, you need to go home. I’ve been working overtime at this damn place for the past nine days, so I know you have too. The only difference is that I actually sleep when I go home; you don’t.”

Gavin mumbled out a half-hearted protest, but Chris just held up a hand.

“No, seriously. You’re the worst kind of workaholic – go home, go to bed, forget about this place for one night. You caught the guy, that’s worth one good night’s sleep, right?” Chris said.

Gavin shrugged. “Tell that to seven missing kids,” he muttered sullenly.

Chris sighed. “You won’t find those seven missing kids if you’re dead on your feet,” he said, clasping Gavin’s shoulder with a firm hand. “Interview this bastard, then go home. Sleep. We’ll find the kids tomorrow, I promise.”

Gavin shrugged Chris’ hand away. “You can’t promise that shit,” he muttered, making a beeline to the bullpen’s breakroom, “we’ll be lucky to find one kid before the year is out.”

Chris was taken aback – he silently watched as Gavin went about making himself as cup of coffee, the detective specifically choosing a mug that Connor had bought for him which read: _I’m sorry for what I said before I had my coffee_.

“You can’t think like that – what happened to being optimistic?” Chris asked, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned against the breakroom’s window.

“I don’t know,” Gavin sighed, “guess I’m trying out Nines’ brand of realism.”

Chris scowled, pushing himself off the window to quickly make his way over to Gavin.

“Hell no,” he said fiercely, “you’re talking like someone who has given up – what fucking changed?”

Gavin shrugged as he piled five teaspoons of sugar into his drink. Chris frowned as he did so, but wisely chose to keep quiet about it.

“I don’t know,” Gavin repeated, slowly mixing the sugar in an almost hypnotic trance, “I was so ready to do whatever it took to find those kids – and then some coward-ass snitch just jumped in and unveiled all? Why? For what fucking reason? What benefit would it give the prick besides painting a target on their back when Marco finds out who squealed?”

“Gavin,” Chris said softly, “I thought you were over this shit. You can’t do everything by yourself – you can’t keep trying to solve cases by yourself. What you need to do is take advantage of the anonymous tip – if it’s a lie, we’ll find out. If it’s the truth? Even better, we can find those kids sooner—”

“Will we?” Gavin asked hotly, “Because those kids… they probably won’t look like their photos anymore.” He thought about Tamron and his bright green eyes. “Androids can alter their fucking appearance, you know? How the fuck would we even recognise them if whoever has them forced them to change?”

“Nines can scan them for their model numbers,” Chris replied simply, grabbing at Gavin’s shoulders to roughly rub at them. “Listen man, any doubts you have – it’s fine to have them, it’s _normal_. But don’t let them win… you can beat this case, I _know_ you can. You just gotta accept the help when it’s handed to you.”

There was a pause of silence as Gavin’s grey eyes bore into his.

After a moment, the man melted under Chris’ hands, exhaling with exhaustion.

“Yeah,” Gavin, nodding slightly, “fuck yeah. I can do this. I’m one of the best damn detectives this precinct has ever been fucking _blessed_ with.”

Chris snorted. “Bit of stretch, but you ride that high,” he encouraged warmly.

“Fuck off,” Gavin replied, shrugging of Chris’ hands so he could scoop up his coffee, “c’mon – let’s go question this fucker.”

* * *

**THE DETROIT POLICE DEPARTMENT**  
**2.49AM**

“What the fuck are you doing?” Gavin asked tiredly, hoisting his bag over his shoulder. His jacket and helmet had been left at club’s cloakroom, and he silently mourned the loss of the extra coverage as the chilly air left him shivering.

“I told you I would escort you home. I am not above informing Officer Miller should you attempt to find your own way back,” Nines said, leaning against his car with his arms folded across his chest.

Gavin rubbed his eyes wearily, his head pounding and his body aching. Nines had allowed him to take the lead on the questioning, watching silently from behind the mirror. Marco had been verbally abusive, but for all his vitriol, he hadn’t exposed any of his secrets once.

Of course, he ended up fucking himself over when Gavin revealed that one of Marco’s own had squealed – the man had burst into an explosion of fury and spite, demanding that the detective divulged the identity of the snitch. Gavin offered a trade: a snitch for secrets, but Marco had simply spat at him and commanded that his lawyer be brought to him.

Chris saw that Gavin was dead on his feet and ordered Fowler to send him home.

Chris and Lewis would take over questioning – Gavin and Nines could resume the interrogation in the morning. Gavin reluctantly agreed to Chris’ suggestion when he began seeing black spots in his vision, knowing that he probably should get some sleep and maybe something to eat before he tackled Marco again.

If he wanted to find out the whereabouts of those seven kids, he needed to be at the top of his game.

Then there was Nines.

Fucking _Nines_.

“Listen,” Gavin started, “you can escort me home, whatever, but you do not get to come inside my flat, got it? Drop me off at my front door and then fuck off.”

Nines arched a brow – he definitely learned that from Chris.

“Understood,” he said simply, “now please, get in.”

Nines stepped to the side and gestured to the open door – Gavin muttered darkly under his breath but stumbled towards the car regardless.

“Can't believe you made me leave my goddamn bike behind,” he scowled as he settled into his seat, throwing his bag to the floor as he harshly stabbed at the car’s GPS system to input his address. Nines sat next to him, the door closing behind him automatically.

“Who gifted it to you?” he asked, as he adjusted his seatbelt around his body.

The car logged the quickest route to Gavin’s apartment and pulled out into the road. Gavin sat back and scoffed as he pulled his seatbelt on.

“That really ain’t your fucking business,” he replied, giving Nines a snide glare.

The android ignored his hostile tone and cocked his head at him.

“I have consulted your personal history and I believe the likeliest individual to afford such an extravagant present must be Elijah Kamski,” Nines stated bluntly – he clearly hadn’t been provided with the same social programming as Connor, as even robo-boy knew not to bug Gavin about his family.

“Do not,” Gavin bit out heatedly, fury rippling in his veins, “you do _not_ bring up that fucker's name around me, okay? You want a harmonious fucking partnership, then you do not talk about that prick in front of me, got it?”

Nines blinked, his LED spinning slowly.

“Apologies. I just assumed that, as you kept his gift, you were somewhat close to him,” he said, turning away from Gavin to focus on the scenery passing by them. The silence between them was tense, broken only by the GPS announcing that they were twenty-five minutes away.

Nines was aware of Gavin shifting in his seat, huffing slightly under his breath.

The detective clearly wanted to say something, so Nines waited patiently until Gavin was ready to speak.

He found he didn’t have to wait long.

“Fucking Christ,” the detective cursed, “we haven't been close in almost… what, two decades? The bike was a gift when I graduated police academy. Felt like a slap in the face… still does sometimes. Bastard knew it was my dream to buy this bike one day and he fucking bought one for me. I hate it, but I ain't a fucking idiot so… I kept it. Modified it, painted it – made it _mine_.”

“Why would you hate him for buying you a gift you longed for?” Nines asked curiously.

Gavin scoffed. “Because I wanted to buy it! I wanted to save up the money and _earn_ it! What's the fucking point in just getting it, if you haven't done the goddamn graft?”

Nines’ LED sparked gold as he slowly registered the human’s confusing logic.

“Hardwork is clearly something you hold in high regard,” Nines noted, regarding the detective with a thoughtful look.

“It was something I wanted to do for myself – it was _my_ thing, mine,” Gavin insisted, slumping down his seat with an irritated scowl.

“What a possessive creature you are,” Nines observed airily.

Gavin snorted softly, shrugging as he did so. “I worked hard to get shit all my life and buying this bike would have been... I don’t fucking know. Like everything shitty I went through was worth it? But now it doesn't matter 'cause Eli just fucking bought it for me. So, what's the point?”

Nines cocked his head.

Gavin was a creature made from pride and anger – he did not ask for help, nor did he accept charity easily. He wondered what made him so antagonistic, but he chose against investigating further. Gavin did not appreciate him pointing out his relation to Elijah Kamski – he probably would not react well to Nines inquiring about his parents.

Still... there had to be something there that explained why Gavin was so fiercely independent and rejected all forms of assistance.

Nines made a note to ask about it later – when his relationship with Gavin was on better and more stable grounds.

Sitting up, Nines levelled Gavin with a long look.

“The point,” the android began patiently, “is that you are a highly competent detective working in a competitive industry, with an apartment in a highly-sought after part of Detroit. You have a healthy work/life balance from what I have seen, with an active lifestyle and a social group who care for and supports one another. I surmise you own cats from what I have heard, four perhaps? Different breeds, yet you manage to accommodate their individual needs without sacrificing your own. You should be proud of what you have achieved in life, detective.”

Nines spied the bright flush and felt something in his software shift.

“What the fu—” Gavin spluttered, but Nines wasn’t finished.

“To compare with Mister Kamski,” he continued briskly, “yes, he may be a billionaire with ties to a technological empire – but he resigned from his company and now isolates himself away from the world. His villa may be the very pinnacle of modern-day architecture, but he lives a very solitary lifestyle. He has no friends, bar the RT600 model who remains as his personal assistant. He has no family either, bar one cousin who he is seemingly estranged from and who he bestowed a thoughtful congratulatory gift only to receive no response in return. I find that though he may be rich in wealth, he is not rich with life.”

Gavin blinked at him blankly, before snorted softly as he quickly averted his gaze.

“You get that off a fortune cookie?” he asked snidely.

“I looked them up yesterday when you ordered a Chinese to the precinct. I found a list of fortunes – this one seemed apt to use in this situation,” Nines divulged, his LED spinning blue lazily.

“Thought so,” Gavin nodded, before sitting up with a serious expression, “listen, you're not gonna guilt me into talking to my cousin, it ain't gonna work, so just stop whilst you're ahead.”

Nines tilted his head. “Duly noted,” he said.

Silence reigned into the car once more – the GPS helpfully informed them that they were now fifteen minutes away from Gavin’s apartment. The detective began drumming his fingers along his leg, stifling a yawn as he peered out of the window.

Nines had to admit it – the man had performed admirably in the interrogation room. No matter how many slurs Marco had thrown his way, Gavin had remained stonily resolute. He had been patient, yet sharp – interspersing evidence they had found with invasive questions in hopes of tripping the man up. Unfortunately, Marco was a cold man who strongly controlled every aspect of his life – including his secrets; no matter what Gavin did, Marco didn’t reveal anything about the seven missing kids. He refused to confirm or deny that he had something to do with it; he merely sat back and smirked.

Nines knew there and then that Marco was guilty – they just needed solid evidence.

They either needed physical proof, or for the man to verbally confess. Neither seemed likely at the moment; even when the mob boss learned that someone had snitched on him and his control slipped slightly, he still refused to give Gavin what he wanted.

Then Marco had demanded his lawyer and Chris had to intervene.

Nines gazed at Gavin askance.

The detective looked truly incredibly fatigued – dark bags under his eyes, his entire body slumped in a manner that betrayed how tired he felt… Gavin had been working the investigation for weeks, even before Nines’ involvement.

The android had to give him some credit – the detective was working hard, despite his emotional outbursts and poor judgement calls.

Still, the human had much to learn.

“I apologise if you felt demeaned by my intervention earlier, at the club,” Nines said, breaking the fragile silence in the car, “I simply did not want our mission to be compromised when we were so close to accomplishing it.”

Gavin scoffed. “Compromised by fucking what?” he asked snidely.

“You were aroused,” Nines reported tonelessly, “I was unsure as to whether you were in the right state of mind to proceed.”

Gavin flushed, sinking down in his seat as fury burned through his veins.

“Fuck you,” he spat, “fuck you with a goddamn baseball bat.”

Nines paused, turning to look at the detective. Gavin’s body was tense, as awaiting Nines to insult him further. The android’s LED span yellow momentarily as he chose his next words carefully.

“That is physically impossible,” he informed Gavin.

The detective growled, though his eyes betrayed his amusement.

“Not with that attitude,” he quipped.

Nines observed Gavin’s sly smirk, taking in every minor detail that culminated in his mirth-filled expression. Nines didn’t know why, but he felt like it was important to catalogue these facial changes.

“You adapt well, I must admit,” Nines said, “you were quick to take advantage of the situation presented to you, despite your arousal. Therefore, I also apologise for the words I said to you – I did not mean to imply that the investigation was not your top priority.”

Gavin rolled his eyes.

“One thing you gotta learn about me: my investigations are always top priority, no matter what ‘state of mind’ I’m in,” Gavin said, a hint of pride in his voice.

“I shall endeavour to remember that,” Nines promised.

Gavin nodded at him shortly, drumming his fingers along his thigh once again. He appeared distracted, and though Nines had a good idea as to what was occupying his mind, he decided to let Gavin work through his problems until he was ready to share them.

Again, Nines found he didn’t have to wait long.

“Hey,” Gavin murmured quietly, “you think we’re gonna find these kids?”

Nines turned, focusing his total attention on the subdued detective beside him.

“Without a doubt,” Nines replied, “I was created with the programming to hunt down anything – I will help you find these children, with or without Marco’s confession. We will investigate his bases ourselves and we will find the evidence we need. These children are out there, and they are waiting to be found. We will find them, I know it.” He paused, his gaze boring into Gavin’s steadily, “They are lucky to have you searching for them.”

Gavin swallowed – once again, a flush creeped over his cheeks.

“How very optimistic of you, Chris will be proud,” he joked weakly, before he ducked his head to tuck his chin against his chest, “thanks though.”

Nines nodded shortly, before turning away.

The GPS notified them that they had five minutes left of their journey.

“Hey Nines?” Gavin asked suddenly, “you sure you ain’t deviant?”

“I am most certain, yes,” Nines replied, his gaze flickering to Gavin without a single emotion lighting his cold eyes. Gavin wrinkled his nose and looked away.

“Okay,” he replied, and the car fell back into silence.

* * *

_Sent: thanks for the bike_

_ekans-ki: You're welcome._

* * *

**GAVIN REED’S APARTMENT  
** **3.17AM**

“Do _not_ tell Connor,” Gavin warned him as he unlocked his door.

“I have no interest in speaking to him,” Nines reminded the detective, ignoring the responding scowl the man shot at him. The detective sighed as he opened the door and swiftly strode inside, the android hot on his heels.

“Honeys, I’m home,” Gavin called out, tossing his keys and bag onto a small table beside the front door.

Nines eyes were quick to scan the room before him. The apartment was set up so that the living room presented itself first, with a kitchen connecting onto it at the back. It was an open-plan room, spacious and surprisingly big for one individual. It was also incredibly tidy – everything was tucked away into bookcases or shelves.

There was a large corner sofa which dominated the room, coated in blankets and pillows. It looked like a veritable nest and Nines could imagine Gavin tucked underneath it on his days off – it curled around an electric fireplace and a mounted television. The bookcases homed books written by Stephen King and David Levithan—

GAVIN REED ENJOYS ESCAPISM

Nines inwardly scowled at the message and forced it to disappear.

He carried on his inspection of Gavin’s flat – neatly stacked video games and movies filled the shelves, and interspersing Gavin’s belongings were photos. Images of Tina and Chris dominated the apartment, along with four cats and a blond woman with cool grey eyes.

GAVIN REED LOVES HIS FRIENDS

GAVIN REED LOVES HIS CATS

GAVIN READ LOVES HIS MOTHER

…BUT NOT HIS FATHER?

In pride of place, situated on the electric fireplace was a photo of Gavin graduating from Michigan State Police Academy – a proud grin on his face, looking incredibly smart in his uniform. His certificate was framed and sat at a neat angle next to the photo.

GAVIN REED IS A PROUD MAN

Nines had the sudden urge to cluck his tongue as the words floated into his HUD.

His DETECTIVE REED folder currently held over two hundred facts about the detective and he had no idea why he was keeping them all.

He refocused his attention on the image of a younger Gavin Reed, brightly smiling with a distinct lack of scars decorating his face. Nines wondered where they came from – but his answer came in the form a loud yowl behind him.

He turned around and found Gavin surrounded by animals.

The detective flushed under Nines’ scrutiny and shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat as he forced himself to meet Nines’ eye.

“So, here’s the other, better squad,” Gavin said roughly, grim determination lining his face, “over there is DIP,” he pointed to a tiny Scottish Fold with three legs, “that’s BOLO,” he gestured to an angrily spitting black cat with only one eye, “and NORP,” waving a hand at the ginger Tom who sat atop the kitchen bar. His tail had clearly been docked and he had a scar across his face, “and this is Coffee Bean.” The last was brown ragdoll kitten, who was curled up tight against Gavin’s chest, crying and wailing at the sight of Nines. “Coffee Bean doesn’t really like strangers, so it’ll probably take her a while to get used to you.”

Nines observed the sight of Gavin Reed, surrounded by cats who clearly adored him, doting on a kitten in his arms and felt something change in his software.

A series of blaring messages flashed across his HUD.

GAVIN REED ADOPTS CATS

GAVIN REED IS ADORED BY HIS PETS

GAVIN REED IS WORK OBSESSED

“You name your cats after policing terminology?” Nines inquired, forcibly shutting down the popups, “Drunk In Public, Be On Lookout, and Normal, Ordinary and Responsible Person—”

“—that one is ironic, ‘cause he’s a fucking menace,” Gavin muttered, scowling at the grumpy cat in question.

“—yet the cat in your arms appears to break your naming conventions,” he said, gesturing to the one in Gavin’s arms, “I assume someone else named him. Office Miller, perhaps?”

Gavin coughed and shifted under Nines’ gaze; the android didn’t need his scanners to see how uncomfortable the detective was feeling.

“Connor named her,” Gavin admitted, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal, “we found her together after a case. He seemed pretty excited about the whole ‘naming thing’, so I thought fuck it, couldn’t hurt, right?”

Nines was unsure what to do with this information.

GAVIN REED AND RK800 ARE [RELATIONSHIP INDETERMINATE]

“Jokes on him,” Gavin snorted, using his fingers to tease Coffee Bean, the kitten batting at the digits with its tiny claws, “he thought I’d be lame and name my cats after fucking coffee products.”

“You’ve named them after policing terms,” Nines noted, “is that somehow ‘cooler’?”

Gavin flushed and narrowed his eyes defensively.

“Fuck you and your judgement,” his hissed, retreating into the kitchen with a sharp click of his tongue. Instantly, the other cats in the room dutifully followed him – NORP continued to watch Nines impassively, flicking his tail sharply. The android watched as Gavin left and felt his facial muscles tick slightly.

GAVIN REED HAS HIS OWN CLOWDER OF CATS

His audio processors pricked at the sound of several tins being opened; he slowly approached the kitchen and observed as Gavin filled up four bowls full of cat food. The bowls were obviously quite pricey – they were personalised as well. Each one was a pale blue, with cursive gold writing imprinted on the metal. A quick scan informed him that bowls came from a store which was a twenty-minute drive away – odd, considering there was a closer pet store just around the corner.

GAVIN REED IS A PET SNOB

Nines leant against the kitchen bar, ignoring NORP as the cat hissed at him – his thirium pump beat quickly as he recorded the scene in front of him. Gavin was soft with his cats, they were clearly beloved and well looked after. Their fur was clean, their eyes bright and the food was organic, only available online. They doted on their owner in return, rubbing up against him and purring loudly. Nines had never seen him so affectionately free, smile soft and eyes sweet.

Nines wanted to—

An array of red warning signs flashed up, causing him to physically recoil from the sight.

YOU DO NOT WANT

YOU DO NOT WANT

YOU DO NOT WANT

Blinking them away, Nines grit his teeth, jaw clicking from the force.

“Yo, you alright Ken doll?” Gavin asked, tucking Coffee Bean up against his neck, the kitten settling against his throat. A small pink tongue flicked out against his jawline, making Gavin squirm and chuckle under his breath. He considered Gavin’s question.

He chose to ignore it.

YOU DO NOT WANT

YOU DO NOT WANT

YOU DO NOT WANT

“Why did you allow RK800 to name her Coffee Bean?” Nines asked, his gaze focused on the creature. “It does not match the others.”

Gavin shrugged. “It suited her better than anything I could come up with,” he admitted, “besides, for his first-time naming someone, it doesn’t totally suck.”

“You are friends,” Nines surmised, connecting the dots.

GAVIN REED AND RK800 ARE FRIENDS

He was unsure how he felt—

YOU DO NOT FEEL

YOU DO NOT FEEL

YOU DO NOT FEEL

Nines growled and forced a shutdown on the messages popping up. He glanced up at Gavin who was peering at him with a minor degree of suspicion. He hoped his expression gave away none of his internal irritation, lest the detective assume that any of it was directed at him. It seemed to work as Gavin appeared to shrug it off, returning his attention the cat in his arms.

“I guess we’re friends,” Gavin said nonchalantly, “I mean, he’s part of our squad and he makes sure I don’t choke and die in a gutter every other Friday night, so he’s definitely scoring some points there. He’s still a smug prick at times and his outfit choices are debatable at best and offensive at worst, but, y’know. He’s alright. I guess. Could be worse, could definitely be better, but. It’s whatever.”

Nines arched a brow at Gavin’s roundabout way of admitting that RK800 was his friend.

Again, he internally queried why androids desired deviancy – emotions clearly made things messy and inconvenient, and how did anyone get anything done in this society, when everyone was so distracted by—

Gavin cooed at Coffee Bean and nuzzled her head with his nose.

Nines’ vision was instantly blocked by several warning notices regarding overheating biocomponents and conflicting priorities – messages that screamed YOU DO NOT, YOU DO NOT, YOU DO NOT over and over agai—

Nines blinked the popups away.

Gavin was literally _purring_ at his cat.

GAVIN REED IS…

Oh.

GAVIN REED IS…

Oh no.

GAVIN REED IS CUTE

_Shit_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gavin: i didn’t get any praise or recognition as a child so here i am recklessly throwing myself into shitty and deadly situations to get it as an adult  
> gavin: like i am literally willing to suck a dick if it gets me a ‘good job son’  
> nines: you are such a good detective and an excellent cat mother, i am truly in awe of you, you are so beautiful, you perfect ridiculous man  
> gavin:  
> gavin:  
> gavin: do y’all hear sumn


End file.
